


Your Desires and Mine

by myrmidryad



Series: Eyes to Serve, Hands to Learn [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blindfolds, Crying, Desperation, Dominant Enjolras, Flogging, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rope Bondage, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, Submissive Grantaire, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2018-11-18 12:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrmidryad/pseuds/myrmidryad
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire's further kink explorations and relationship developments after the events of Eyes to Serve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire have an apartment to themselves while Combeferre works overnight at the library, and use it accordingly.

Enjolras squinted at the calendar hung next to the front door as he ate his toast, sure there was something different about it. He realised a moment later, still sluggish from sleep – Combeferre had written something in for the Friday after this. _Overnight at library_ , in neat green ink. Enjolras smiled as he chewed. It was hardly unexpected – Combeferre’s approach to exam season had mellowed over the years, but it would always include brutally long stints in the library. It was never something he would have written onto the calendar before though.

Marius was usually the one to give them space for scenes, since he was perfectly happy to spend nights over Cosette’s, but every now and then Combeferre would be out for a night, and he would always make sure Enjolras knew.

After he’d finished eating, Enjolras texted Grantaire to tell him, and received a string of party-themed emojis in response.

 _Cute_ , Enjolras texted back. _What are you in the mood for?_

_All sorts, you know me._

_Anything specific right now?_

_Not at this time of morning. What about you?_

Enjolras put his phone down to think about it as he brushed his teeth. They’d been going out ‘officially’ for a couple of months now, but his fantasies concerning Grantaire hadn’t slowed down a bit. He couldn’t really remember if they’d started right after that first scene at Grantaire’s place or a while later, but they were basically constant now.

He didn’t tend to imagine whole scenes. His desires came to him in flashes, like tiny clips from a movie. Grantaire tied to a table with a spreader bar between his legs, chest arched out and head thrown back. Grantaire’s eyes rolling back in his head as Enjolras forced him to pleasure himself as he was being beaten. Grantaire gagged and blindfolded, the material wet with his tears.

Before Grantaire, it had been a rotation of Enjolras’ favourite porn actors in those positions. Now, his fantasies and plans had only one star. He hadn’t told Grantaire yet. He wasn’t sure whether he was saving telling him for a scene or not, since he knew Grantaire would be pleased either way. It was just a matter of whether he wanted to use it to turn Grantaire on or make him blush.

But what did he want to do most with Grantaire right now?

He texted, _Either more rope play, or really marking you up._

The response was instant. _What with?_

Enjolras grinned to himself. Marking it was then. _I know you love being flogged, and I think it’s probably time to take a break from my canes._

_You know I love being caned too._

Enjolras’ lips twitched. _I’m aware. Are you objecting to a flogging?_

_Absolutely not! To within an inch of my life would be awesome._

_I thought so. You’d better get back to work._

_Sure, and you’d better GET to work. I bet you only just got out of bed._

_Why get up earlier when I don’t have to commute anywhere? X_

_:P xxx_

Enjolras put his phone on the coffee table and opened his laptop, satisfaction humming under his skin. It was always good to have a date to plan for.

 

Grantaire’s hair was shower-fluffy when Enjolras opened the door for him, and he felt his eyes crease as he stepped back to let Grantaire in, pulling him in for a kiss as he pushed the door closed. “Hi,” he murmured, close enough to Grantaire’s lips to feel him exhale.

“Hi,” Grantaire said, smiling up at him. “I thought we weren’t starting right away?”

“We’re not. I can’t kiss you hello?”

“Oh hey, by all means, kiss away.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras did so, slow and soft in the way he now knew would make Grantaire reach out for him. And there – Grantaire’s hands slid around his waist, moving closer. Enjolras hummed and broke the kiss to turn the embrace into a proper hug. Grantaire was the perfect height, his face turned against Enjolras’ hairline, lips pressed to his neck.

Grantaire squeezed him, and Enjolras squeezed back, then loosened his grip to lean back a little. “Did you bring tomatoes?”

“Yeah, I got them.” Grantaire kissed his jaw and smiled. “Show me the kitchen, chef.” As if he couldn’t see it very well over Enjolras’ shoulder.

It was a new ritual for them, something they’d only done a couple of times before. But in Enjolras’ mind, it made perfect sense to cook a meal together before longer scenes. They needed to eat, and this stretched out the time and made it feel more like a date. There was also the possibility for starting the play a little early too – they’d done that last time, Enjolras issuing orders instead of requests as they cooked.

It meant the washing up didn’t get done till the morning after though, because Enjolras hadn’t wanted to delay the scene any further. Tonight, there would be no distractions. He said as much to Grantaire, who laughed. “You just want everything clean before Combeferre gets back.”

Enjolras didn’t deny it, shrugging to make Grantaire snort and swat him with a tea towel. “There’s nothing wrong with being tidy. What do we do first?”

“Um…” Grantaire had the recipe on his phone. “Okay, you chop tomatoes, I’ll chop onions and garlic.”

Neither of them were particularly gifted cooks, but half an hour later they sat down to eat a perfectly serviceable meal of garlic bread and pasta. It was simple fare, but Enjolras rarely had patience for anything that took longer than twenty minutes to make, and Grantaire had confessed that he’d never been able to summon any enthusiasm for cooking anything complicated. “Eating it, absolutely,” he’d said. “Actually taking the time to make it? Ugh. And it’d only be disappointing anyway, compared to something made by a professional.”

He was pleased with their pasta though, if his expression was anything to go by. They’d intended to leave some of the garlic bread, but ended up eating the lot. Washing up only took ten minutes between the two of them, so Enjolras pointed at the sofa. “We’re watching an episode of something first.”

“Do we have to?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m very full right now. Sitting down for forty-five minutes won’t hurt.”

“I guess.” Grantaire flopped dramatically onto the cushions, then frowned and reached underneath one of them. Enjolras realised what had happened just before Grantaire pulled out the bottle of lube and started to laugh. “Have I found a surprise for later, by any chance?”

“Well it’s not a surprise now,” Enjolras said dryly, drying his hands off and coming over to take the bottle from Grantaire, putting it out of the way on one of the bookshelves. “Come on, what do you want to watch?”

“You pick, I don’t care.”

Combeferre had been watching an animal documentary, and out of laziness Enjolras clicked through onto the next in the series. Grantaire leaned against his side as it began, and Enjolras stretched an arm along the back of the sofa behind him, bending his elbow so that his hand could slide into Grantaire’s hair. Freshly-washed like this, it was delightfully soft to the touch, and Enjolras sifted his fingers through the cool strands.

He was careful not to pull, but he kept half an eye on Grantaire as he went on, watching for reactions when he scratched Grantaire’s scalp gently, or wound curls around his fingers, or rubbed at the nape of Grantaire’s neck.

“Don’t think I can’t tell what you’re doing,” Grantaire mumbled, eyes briefly closed after Enjolras had closed his hand around a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back gently.

“Oh? What am I doing?” Enjolras shifted closer and pulled Grantaire’s hair back to kiss his hairline, lingering for two heartbeats.

“Warming up.” Grantaire smiled lazily, not looking away from the screen. There was something going on there with a termite colony, but Enjolras wasn’t paying attention. It was far more rewarding to kiss his temple and drag his fingertips from the crown of Grantaire’s head to the top of his spine. It wasn’t quite enough to elicit a shiver, but Grantaire did close his eyes again.

“You’ve rumbled me.” Enjolras started rubbing little circles into Grantaire’s scalp. “You’re not allowed to move though. Just keep watching the TV.”

Grantaire exhaled slowly. “That’s cruel.”

“It is,” Enjolras agreed, smirking. “Any objections?”

“Mmmm. Nothing’s springing to mind.” Grantaire finally shivered, and Enjolras grinned.

“Excellent. Just keep your eyes on the screen.”

Grantaire pushed his head back into Enjolras’ hand and smiled. “I’ll do that.”

There was half an hour left of the documentary, and Enjolras couldn’t have reliably said which animals had made an appearance by the end, entirely too absorbed in reducing Grantaire to a pliant, content puddle. One hand in his hair or on his face or neck at all times, the other wandering all over. Nothing harder than not-quite-gentle scratches, teasing at more. If Enjolras had asked Grantaire about spending an hour or so just touching him, he was sure Grantaire would have laughed, or dismissed the idea for the time it would take.

But that was one of the best things about this. If Enjolras asked, Grantaire would argue, however jokingly. If he ordered, Grantaire would submit. Or disagree, sure, but he wouldn’t dance around it or tease, thank God. Enjolras had never been that good with the brattier type of sub. He doubted himself too much. It took time and investment and effort to get to a point where he could reliably distinguish between someone pushing back because they wanted to be put in their place, or pushing back because they weren’t enjoying themselves.

Grantaire was refreshingly earnest. And they matched up so well, it came so easily to Enjolras when they were together. It was a pleasure in and of itself to spend long minutes touching Grantaire and watching his reactions, drinking them in and filing them away. Grantaire kept his hands twined together in his lap, obediently still, not looking away from the screen unless it was to close his eyes.

Enjolras kept his touches over Grantaire’s clothes, but it was still more intimate than he’d expected. He smoothed his hand down Grantaire’s chest over and over, palm occasionally lingering to feel his heart beating. If he pressed down, Grantaire’s lips would part. Sometimes, he would blink quickly. Enjolras stroked his bare arms, felt the bumps of his knuckles, pressed his thighs down into the sofa. And always a hand on his head, pulling gently at his hair or massaging the back of his neck, just sometimes curling around to suggest choking.

Grantaire took a deep breath as the credits rolled and then looked at Enjolras, expression something between wanting and expectant. Enjolras smiled and nodded. “Let me get the rope. You brought your flogger?”

“Like I was going to forget it.” Grantaire took a breath and got up slowly, stretching his arms up over his head. When he relaxed, he looked more alert, and Enjolras kissed him quickly before going to his bedroom to get two lengths of rope, one for Grantaire’s wrists and another for his ankles, and the blindfold they’d agreed on.

“Safewords?” he said as he came back in. Grantaire was standing in the middle of the room, the flogger in his hands.

“Red for stop, yellow to pause, green to keep going,” he recited, eyes on the rope. Enjolras had only ever bought cotton before, but this was hemp, bought after Grantaire had told him about how good the chafing felt to him. Enjolras didn’t like the way it shed fibres all over the place, but the marks it left were worth the annoyance.

He stepped forward to take the flogger, moving back again as he said, “Very good. Take your clothes off.”

Grantaire didn’t meet his eyes as he stripped, quick and efficient, dumping his clothes in a pile next to him and then kicking it all over towards the door. That done, he stood quiet and still, tense and a little nervous. Enjolras let it grow, watching Grantaire carefully until he swallowed – any further than that, and he would start getting freaked out. “Hands behind your back.”

Grantaire’s shoulders slackened as he obeyed, belly relaxing as he stopped holding it in so much. Enjolras dropped the blindfold and one of the rope bundles onto the arm of the sofa with the flogger and stroked Grantaire’s shoulder as he stepped behind him, sliding his hand down to his wrist. “Good,” he murmured. “Cross your wrists.” Grantaire moved his arms, bending them so his forearms were on top of each other, left wrist above right. Enjolras unwrapped the rope and began to wind it around them. Nothing fancy, just cuffs, but the rope was prickling at Enjolras’ hands already.

“I like how you always choose the thing that will discomfort you the most,” he said quietly, glancing up to see Grantaire turn his head and smile. “Is it a better reminder of your predicament if it hurts?” Grantaire nodded, and Enjolras tugged his arms up to make him grunt. “An answer, please. Where are your manners?”

“Yes,” Grantaire muttered. He cleared his throat and said it again, “Yeah, I like…I like that it hurts more.”

“Of course you do.” Enjolras flicked the rope around and between Grantaire’s wrists, sliding his fingers below it with each wrap to make sure there was enough give. “I should get a thinner length of this and tie your cock up with it, see how much you like it when it really hurts.”

“Might be too much,” Grantaire said. The touching on the sofa had been an excellent idea: Grantaire was already in the headspace Enjolras wanted, already reacting before thinking to moderate it.

“Oh, I don’t think so. You can take a lot more pain than most people. I think I’d have to warm you up a bit, but you know how you get after you’ve had a taste – you can’t help begging for more, isn’t that right?”

Grantaire swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes,” Enjolras repeated softly, finishing the final knot and adding another to use up the excess rope. “There. Move a bit, Grantaire, give me a colour.” He watched the muscles in Grantaire’s back shift as he twisted his wrists in the bindings, a slow breath leaving him as they held and scratched.

“Green.”

“Excellent. Stay where you are.” Enjolras went to get the other length of rope, stopping in front of Grantaire and tilting his chin up with the side of his index finger. “Look at me.” It took three long seconds for Grantaire to manage it. Asking humiliating questions always set the mood quickly. “Good,” Enjolras murmured, almost close enough to kiss him. “Do you want me to hobble you now?”

Grantaire licked his lips, breathing out a barely audible, “Yes.”

“Ask me nicely.”

A thrum of heat went through him as Grantaire’s next breath came out shaky. It was always gratifying (electrifying) to see the effect his words could have.

“Please hobble me,” Grantaire whispered.

“What was that?” Enjolras smiled, a little cruel. “I didn’t quite hear you. Ask me again.”

Grantaire’s eyes closed on a long blink, and he visibly steadied himself before he opened them again. “Please,” he said, quiet but not in an undertone as before. “Hobble me.”

“Much better.” Enjolras slid his thumb up to rub it along Grantaire’s bottom lip, a tease to make his lips part before he let go completely and stepped behind him, kneeling down and touching Grantaire’s ankle. “Spread your legs further.”

Grantaire shuffled his bare feet outwards, stopping when Enjolras gripped both of his ankles. He’d tested this tie on himself a few days ago to check how much distance he would need to put between Grantaire’s feet, since the gap would shrink by a couple of inches at least when he tied them together and he didn’t want Grantaire to be at risk of falling over.

“What I like about this,” he said as he looped the rope around Grantaire’s ankles and made a lark’s head, “is that it acts a bit like a spreader, since the rope’s so thick in the middle. Does it feel good, to have your legs spread for me?” Without warning, he slapped the back of his hand against the back of one of Grantaire’s thighs.

Grantaire twitched, a little shiver going down his arms. “Yes.”

“I thought it might.” Enjolras smiled, looking back down at the rope in his hands, winding it back around Grantaire’s ankles before starting to wrap it around the slack in the middle. “I like having you open for me like that, especially when I know how much you love it, put on display for me like a toy.”

Goosebumps spread down Grantaire’s legs, and Enjolras hummed. “Of course, it’s better still when you try and pretend you don’t want it. As if you’ve never begged me to hold you down and fuck you till you scream. Will you do that today, do you think? Or will you try and keep it in?” He pinched the thigh he’d slapped, pleased when it made Grantaire’s ass tense. “Answer me, Grantaire.”

“Fuck.” A whisper – Grantaire could never stop himself cursing. “I don’t know,” he added, a little louder, though still breathy.

“How disappointing.” Enjolras tied off the hobble and stood up, pressing himself against Grantaire from behind, wrapping an arm around his chest, hand at his throat. “I expect better from you, you know.” Under his arm, Grantaire shivered, his eyes on the floor. “How are your ankles, Grantaire? Give me a colour.”

“Green.”

So quick – Grantaire was eager to keep going. Enjolras nosed at his jaw, moving hair aside with his face so he could nip at Grantaire’s earlobe. “Good,” he whispered. “I’m going to blindfold you now. Colour?”

“Green.”

Enjolras bit him once more, then stepped away, grabbing the blindfold and cupping Grantaire’s cheek when he returned, tilting it down so that he could slide the blindfold down over his head. “How’s that?” Enjolras checked, fingers shifting it at the edges. “Any light coming through?”

“No, it’s good.” Grantaire licked his lips again and smiled.

“Excellent. I’m going to start beating you now, just warming you up. Colour?”

“Still green.”

“Very good. Stay still for me now.”

Grantaire nodded, and Enjolras didn’t take his eyes away as he picked up the flogger and began to spin it slowly, rotating his wrist. “Chest first,” he said, so that Grantaire wouldn’t startle when the ends hit him. Though at this speed, they were just brushing him, really. Nice and slow and even. Enjolras hummed in approval when Grantaire straightened his back, tipping his chin up to keep his face out of the way.

“Exposing yourself for me, are you?” Enjolras smirked, mouth already open to chide when that made Grantaire hunch a little. “Now, now, don’t be embarrassed. Back straight, like before. Your body knows what you want, doesn’t it?” A quicker spin for a slightly harder strike of the braided leather tails, and Grantaire’s mouth fell open.

“Yes,” he managed after a second.

“And what does it want? Tell me.”

“I…” Grantaire sank his teeth into his lower lip, but Enjolras just kept spinning the flogger, moving around to Grantaire’s side. “Don’t stop,” he blurted. “It, I – please don’t stop.”

“Very eloquent.” Enjolras stepped behind him, still using the flogger gently. “I’m not going to stop, don’t worry. I’m just getting started. You know this is only the warm-up, don’t you? And I wouldn’t bother, I know you don’t care about this part, but I’d hate to damage something so precious.” It wasn’t a word he’d used before in a scene, only in aftercare, but he had a direction planned for it. Grantaire’s fingers flexed, shoulders shifting, head bowing without the threat of the flogger to keep it tilted up.

“You don’t think you’re precious?” Enjolras started to spin the flogger horizontally, focusing on Grantaire’s upper back and shoulders. “Answer me, Grantaire, when I ask you a question. Don’t you think you’re precious?”

Grantaire shuddered, and whispered, “No.”

He’d had ideas for where to go with each answer, but ‘no’ had definitely been the most likely, and Enjolras smiled. “I can understand why you’d think that, since you do so love being degraded and treated like dirt.” A little faster now, the flogger hopefully starting to sting a bit. “But you’re a rare gem, you know.” He hesitated, then went on. “You know how I like to think of you locked up for me?” Yes, he knew that Grantaire wasn’t as into roleplay as he was, but for Enjolras it could sometimes be all too easy to slip into fantasy. Especially when he acted imperious and cruel like this.

Grantaire nodded. “Yes.”

“Colour?”

“Green.”

Thank fuck. “You know what I’d do, if I had you at my mercy like that?”

“Tell me.”

Enjolras tutted. Either Grantaire had slipped up or made the mistake on purpose; it didn’t matter. The results would be the same. “That,” he said, punctuating the word with a much harder strike of the flogger. “Sounded like impertinence, Grantaire.” He moved around to stand in front of him, keeping the flogger spinning. The tails were only just short enough for him to be able to reach out and grip a handful of Grantaire’s hair without hitting himself with them. “Try again,” he said, dark and firm.

Grantaire’s adam’s apple bobbed twice before he spoke. “Please,” he breathed. “Please tell me. I’m sorry.”

“Better.” Enjolras released his hair and focused once more on spinning the flogger, making sure he kept it well above Grantaire’s abdomen. Lower than that and it risked hitting Grantaire’s half-hard cock, and Grantaire had understandably hard limits about that.

“If I had you like that, I’d want mementos, I think. I know how much you like your photographs, but that wouldn’t be possible. I’d have to bring in a painter.” He began to increase the speed of his wrist, just a little, the sound of the tails striking Grantaire’s flesh getting louder, hitting harder. “Someone from outside, brought in specifically to capture scenes like this on paper and canvas.”

Grantaire’s lips twitched. “Scenes?”

Glad he’d caught that, Enjolras grinned. “Scenes,” he agreed. “Or tableaus, displays, whatever you want to call them. He’d have to come a lot, I think, to make plenty of sketches to work from. And of course, he’d have to have material to draw from. You wouldn’t be just sitting there, looking pretty.”

“You’d put me to work?” Grantaire’s stomach was so tense it was almost trembling, his lips wet and bitten red.

“Absolutely. What else are you good for, after all? I know where your talents lie, and it’s not in mundane nonsense anyone could do. That’s why you’re precious. Not everyone can take a cock like you can, after all.”

Grantaire swayed, needy, and Enjolras gave him a hard strike. “Concentrate, Grantaire. Don’t lose your balance.”

“I won’t, I’m not.” Grantaire swallowed, steadying himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” His chest was turning red, and Enjolras paced around him to start on his back again. That was where Grantaire liked it best, after all. “Do you want me to tell you what I’d make you do, Grantaire?”

“Please.” Breathless.

Enjolras smiled, spinning the flogger faster, aiming to hurt now. It was harder to increase the speed and keep the accuracy, but he’d had a lot of practice, and Grantaire was spreading his arms as much as he could, pulling against the rope around his wrists to give Enjolras the biggest surface area possible to work with. He was good like that, greedy without being demanding. “I’d want good paintings, of course,” Enjolras told him. “Accurate. I want perfection, you know that, so for accuracy, for him to really understand, the painter would have to participate. I’d tie your wrists like this and bend you backwards over a platform or a table, something curved, and we’d tie your legs up in the air, spread nice and wide.”

Grantaire shuddered, his exhale almost a moan. His back was getting red, shoulders aflame. Enjolras wasn’t hitting hard enough to bruise, but he was working up to it slowly. The redness was gorgeous enough on its own, and much more even than any bruises made with a flogger could be. He paused for a second to adjust his grip on it, holding the base of the tails as well as the handle, hitting hard across Grantaire’s shoulders. Like that, there was a smaller area of impact, and a higher chance of the bruising Grantaire loved so much.

“Oh, I knew you’d like that. I’d’ve fucked you at least once by then, maybe more, so you’d be dripping and open already.” He drank in the way Grantaire’s hands curled into fists at that, groaning softly as Enjolras brought the flogger down across his shoulders even harder “I’d stand up by your head and hold your hair, hold you nice and still so you could get fucked by a stranger.”

Grantaire gasped as Enjolras moved to stand more at his side to get a hand back in his hair. Both as part of the fantasy he was weaving and as an anchor for Grantaire, so that if he did start to lose his footing, Enjolras would feel it. His own heart was jumping against his chest, his senses heightened and narrowed, focused entirely on Grantaire’s reactions.

“I’d tell him to watch your face on the first thrust,” he told Grantaire, bringing the flogger across in a continuous series of harsh _whacks_ against Grantaire’s shoulders and back. “That’s the picture I’d want him to paint, the way you look when you can’t help showing how much you like being filled. A dick, a toy, it doesn’t matter, you can’t stop the way your mouth opens that little bit, and the way your eyes look…I’d want a painting of that moment exactly, larger than life, as real as he could get it.”

“Fuck,” Grantaire breathed. “Enjolras…”

“Colour?”

“Green, please, please…”

“It won’t stop there.” Enjolras tightened his grip in Grantaire’s hair, hoping for a moan and loving the thrill he felt when he got it. “Oh no. I’d tell him to fuck you good and hard, the way you like, and then I’d pull your head back like this.” He dragged Grantaire’s head right back, so his neck was almost a straight line from collar to chin. “Get your mouth wide open and make you suck me, as much as you could like that anyway.”

Grantaire was so hard now that his cock had lifted away from his thighs, poking out into the air, and his gasping breaths were high and desperate. Enjolras decreased the speed of his strikes in favour of making them harder, starting to sweat from the repeated motion. He couldn’t pause to take off his shirt, not now, but this sort of thing always happened. He could never start a scene naked, which meant he usually ended them overheated. “Filled from both ends, would you like that? I think you would. And you’d be getting fucked so hard that I wouldn’t even have to move. My hired painter would be fucking you onto my mouth, he’d be nailing you so hard.” Brilliant heat in the pit of his stomach as Grantaire’s hips moved in a helpless thrust, and Enjolras laughed.

“You’d be desperate there too. Neither of us would bother touching you – why pleasure a toy, after all? Especially when keeping you wanting keeps you tight and tense, the way we’d like it. I’d have to be careful not to choke you, but just think of how good it would look, my cock going straight down your throat like that. I’d have to make him paint that as well, I think. You won’t be able to move at all, you’ll be tied down nice and tight, and since I’m such a gentleman, I’ll let the painter come first, and I won’t come at all, not yet. We’ll slide out at the same time, because that’s something else I’d want him to see, the way you’d look then, all empty and desperate, craning your neck for my cock because you can’t get enough, can you? I’ll want him to hear you beg me to come back, and you would beg, wouldn’t you?”

He moved Grantaire’s head forward a bit to let him speak, grinning when Grantaire started to babble. “I would, I want, please, Christ, please touch me, please, Enjolras –”

“Oh no, not yet.” Enjolras finally dropped his wrist, Grantaire’s back and shoulders flaming red from the flogger’s attention. “What have you done to deserve that? Get down on your knees and put your ass in the air.”

Grantaire sank gracelessly to the floor, bending forwards and dragging his knees in, ass up just as Enjolras had ordered, so eager to comply that he almost fell. He was flushed and tense, and he yelped beautifully when Enjolras knelt next to him and slapped his ass hard. “What could you do to deserve my hands on your cock?” Enjolras asked, setting a steady rhythm as he smacked his palm into down over and over. Not too hard, since he hadn’t touched Grantaire’s ass until now, but hard enough to sting. Hard enough to keep Grantaire down without giving him a chance to have any doubts about where he was supposed to be. “Hmm? How could you please me enough to earn that?”

“Fuck, fuck, I don’t know, please…” Grantaire’s weight was on his shoulders and head, his face half against the carpet as he gulped in air. “Please, tell me. Tell me what to do.”

“You want me to make all the decisions, do you?” He gave Grantaire a hard enough smack to make him shout, then stroked his fingers down the cleft of his ass to his balls, teasing very gently. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” Grantaire’s voice was rasping, his whole body whipcord tight. “Fuck, please.”

“What if you don’t like my decisions?” Enjolras slapped Grantaire’s ass again, sudden and sharp. “What if I just want to keep hurting you until you can’t even think? What if I put a cock ring on you and only touch you to make you cry? Is that what you want?”

“No, no, I – oh, _oh_.” Grantaire pressed his face into the carpet, shuddering as Enjolras hit him hard enough to hurt his own hand. “Oh, God…”

“You want me to touch you, is that it?”

“Yes, please, please, Enjolras, ahh _fuck, please!_ ”

“Such a filthy mouth,” Enjolras admonished, his whole body alight as he hit Grantaire again and again. They needed a paddle, he thought suddenly. He could hit hard, but a paddle would be harder, and Grantaire would bruise so beautifully. “And so selfish,” he continued, putting the idea aside for later. “Don’t you want to please me?”

“Yes, ah, I do, please –”

“But you’d rather please yourself,” Enjolras taunted. His palm was numb and hot, but Grantaire’s ass was bright red, the same shade as his shoulders. Enjolras wanted it darker, wanted proof that he could hit Grantaire harder with his bare hands than anything else. “You’d rather beg for release than let me do as I want.”

Grantaire twisted against the carpet, blindfold shifting dangerously. “No! Ah, ah fuck, fuck…”

“Then stay _still_.” Enjolras punctuated the order with his hardest smack yet, his cock throbbing when it made Grantaire’s voice crack on a shout of pain. He leaned forward to pull Grantaire’s hair, still hitting him, and adjusted the blindfold to make sure it was on properly. “You don’t want to displease me, do you?”

“No, please,” Grantaire cried out as Enjolras focused on one spot relentlessly. “Oh fuck, fuck, please, I’ll do anything, anything you want!”

“Even if you don’t get to come?” Enjolras asked cruelly, palming himself at the sight of Grantaire shifting very slightly on his knees, fighting his instinct to roll away from the blows he was taking. “Even if all I do is use you for myself and don’t let you have any release at all?”

“Yes, yours,” Grantaire shuddered, his hands tight fists against his back. “Enjolras –”

“That’s what you’re here for,” Enjolras told him, switching hands at last and hitting Grantaire with renewed vigour that Grantaire could feel, if the way he shouted was any indication. “For _my_ pleasure, not your own. And if I want to keep you so hard I could use your cock as a coat hook, then that’s my prerogative, isn’t it?”

Grantaire made a desperate sobbing noise that might have been an affirmation, and Enjolras growled. “ _Isn’t it_ , Grantaire?”

“ _Yes_ , yes…” Grantaire’s toes were curled, trying to thrust against his own thighs and finding, Enjolras was sure, no relief at all.

“You want to satisfy me?”

“Yes –”

“You want me to make use of you?”

“ _Oh_ Christ.” That phrasing made Grantaire turn his face into the carpet, mouth open on a silent shout.

Enjolras laughed, the hand he was hitting Grantaire with as numb as the other had been now. “That’s right. You’re mine already, I just want you to accept it. You’re nothing but a possession for me to use at my leisure – you don’t need to feel any pleasure that doesn’t serve me.” Grantaire didn’t seem able to form words, barely able to make the shivery moans he was panting out with every _smack_ of Enjolras’ hand against his ass.

Enjolras knelt up and pushed Grantaire sideways onto his back. “Legs straight, Grantaire, and give me a colour.”

Grantaire arched his back to keep his sore ass off the ground. “Ahhhhh, ah…”

“Flat on your back,” Enjolras told him, stroking a hand down Grantaire’s chest. “And give me a colour.”

“Nggh, fuck. Green, so green.” Grantaire lowered himself down with a moan of pain, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Please, Enjolras.”

“You want me to touch you?” Enjolras taunted, moving to stand with his legs either side of Grantaire’s hips.

Grantaire’s breathing hitched on what might have been a sob. “Please, yes.”

“You’re so desperate, it’s pathetic.” Enjolras lifted one bare foot and stepped down on Grantaire’s cock, very carefully. The way Grantaire immediately started thrusting up against it was absurdly hot, and Enjolras couldn’t manage the laugh he’d intended. “You’d really do anything, wouldn’t you,” he breathed, managing to turn it into a jeer. “You’d fuck yourself against my foot, you want relief so badly.”

“I do, I, I, fuck, oh fuck.” Grantaire was wild, frantic, and Enjolras revised the rest of the scene quickly. He’d intended to kneel over Grantaire and have him blow him, but Grantaire was already so close, and Enjolras wasn’t exactly unaffected either.

They could skip the blowjob, Enjolras decided, undoing his fly and easing his cock out. He didn’t look away from Grantaire’s face as he licked his hand and wrapped it around himself, jerking off as fast as he could.

“You like this?” he sneered, pressing down harder on Grantaire’s cock as much to balance himself as to be cruel. “You like being pressed under my foot like this? Like filth on the street?”

“Christ, fuck, yes,” Grantaire threw his head back, bucking up almost hard enough to unbalance Enjolras. “Please, please, let me –”

“Let you come like this?” Fuck, he was wobbling. Enjolras had to put his foot down on the other side of Grantaire’s hips again. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh please, Enjolras, please!” Grantaire twisted sideways, and Enjolras dropped quickly to his knees, slamming his free hand onto his chest to keep him on his back. Sitting on Grantaire’s thighs wasn’t an option, not with Enjolras’ spread legs already making it difficult to keep his jeans down.

“Don’t you dare! Did I give you permission to move?”

“No,” Grantaire gasped, thrusting against nothing, leaking precome against his belly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“No?” Enjolras shuddered, trying to keep his eyes on Grantaire’s face. It was like he could feel what Grantaire was feeling when they were like this, or like Grantaire’s helpless need spilled out of his body and into the air around him. There would be nothing in his head at all now, except for the twin desires to obey Enjolras and come, and Enjolras knew with absolute certainty which one would win if he tested them. “Don’t forget, you’re here to be used, to serve me.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m – _fuck!_ ” He thrust up off the ground as Enjolras pressed his hand over his cock, not holding, just a source of firmness to push against. “Oh my God, I can’t, please let me –”

“No.” Enjolras pushed down, forcing Grantaire’s ass back against the carpet. “I want to torment you, and this about what I want, isn’t it?”

Grantaire made a sound of desperate, helpless frustration, and Enjolras leaned forward to shove two fingers past his lips. Grantaire sucked at them immediately, opening his mouth wide to take more when Enjolras pressed all four fingers in at once.

“That’s right,” he murmured, leaning more weight on Grantaire’s cock and drinking in the rasping moan it produced. “Get my fingers nice and wet. This is what you’re good for.” As soon as he pulled his hand out of Grantaire’s mouth, Grantaire’s head thumped against the ground, mouth still open as Enjolras wrapped his wet hand around himself and started to jerk off again.

“That’s better,” he breathed. “This is where you belong. You’re mine to play with and hurt, and if I want to see you suffer, that’s exactly what you’ll do, and you’ll thank me for it, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Grantaire groaned, pinned in place by Enjolras’ knees either side of his hips, and Enjolras’ hand cruelly pressing his cock against his stomach, not letting him get any friction or leverage at all. “Ohhhh…”

“So thank me, Grantaire.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire said, almost on top of Enjolras’ command. “Thank you, thank you –”

Thanking Enjolras for beating him, refusing him pleasure, treating him so cruelly. Enjolras shuddered and came on Grantaire’s stomach, some of it dripping onto the hand covering Grantaire’s cock. Grantaire, realising what had happened, thrust up against him as much as he was able, gasping helplessly.

“You’re welcome,” Enjolras grinned. “You’re so good for me, Grantaire.”

“Thank you.” Grantaire’s voice shook, his face and neck almost as flushed as his abused chest.

“So good.” Enjolras moved the hand on Grantaire’s cock, lifting it up and scooping as much of his own come up as he could before wrapping it around Grantaire and stroking him slowly. “That’s right.”

Grantaire arched his back with a gasping cry, tense and shivery all over. “Can I, please –”

“Yes,” Enjolras told him, captivated and beyond pleased. “I want you to come now, that’s right…” A few more strokes, speeding up, and Grantaire was coming with a strangled sound, utterly beautiful in his desperation and relief. Enjolras felt his cock pulse in his hand and kept moving until Grantaire went limp, only his chest moving as he sucked in deep, shaking breaths.

Both of Enjolras’ hands were covered in come, and he kept a gentle grip on Grantaire’s softening cock while wiping the other on his jeans. He leaned forward and touched Grantaire’s face, fingertips brushing the blindfold. “Perfect,” he said, letting Grantaire hear how pleased he was. Grantaire turned his head into Enjolras’ palm, pressing into it with a shiver.

“That’s right,” Enjolras murmured. “I’ve got you.” He stroked Grantaire’s cheek with his thumb, then smoothed his hand down from Grantaire’s neck to his hip, checking his temperature. He felt warm all over, and he was starting to shift against the restrictions of the rope ties.

“Hey, shhh.” Enjolras squeezed his arm gently and let go of his cock, lifting his leg over Grantaire’s hip to kneel beside him. “Roll onto your side, Grantaire. Perfect, just like that.” Grantaire curled up with a tired sound, tucking his knees against Enjolras’ leg. It was easy to untie his wrists, Enjolras’ fingers pulling the knots apart as fast as he could. When it was done, he helped Grantaire to sit up and curl against his front.

“I’ve got you,” Enjolras murmured, stroking Grantaire’s hair, careful not to pull on any tangles. “You’re so good, Grantaire, you did beautifully. I’m going to take the blindfold off now, okay? Give me a colour.”

Grantaire swallowed, turning his face into Enjolras’ chest for a moment before saying, “Green.”

“Okay. Keep your eyes closed, here we go.” He slid the blindfold off and tossed it away, cradling the back of Grantaire’s head. “No rush now, okay? Nice and easy. You’re good, everything’s great.”

“Love you,” Grantaire breathed, and warmth bloomed in Enjolras’ chest. He dipped his head to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head, smiling wide.

“I love you too. I love you so much. I’m going to take such good care of you now, you can be easy.”

“Easy,” Grantaire echoed, sounding almost drunk.

“That’s right. You were perfect, Grantaire, just perfect.” He kept up a repetitive stream of assurances as he coaxed Grantaire into pulling his knees up so that Enjolras could reach the hobble and start unwinding it. There were angry red circles around Grantaire’s wrists and ankles, and Enjolras brought Grantaire’s hands up to kiss them, rubbing the welted skin gently.

Grantaire pressed his face into Enjolras’ neck, breathing slowly, not moving at all for a few minutes. “Enjolras?” he mumbled finally.

“Mmm?” Enjolras stroked his hair. “Ready for some lotion?” Grantaire was sitting, after all, and his ass was probably killing him.

“No.” Grantaire pressed himself closer, and Enjolras waited as he steadied himself and then went on. “Can we shower? My chest…”

“I did make a bit of a mess of you,” Enjolras agreed, lips quirking. “Sure, we can shower. It’ll be a tight squeeze though.”

“S’fine.”

“Okay then. Let’s get you standing first.” Gently, carefully, Enjolras helped Grantaire to his feet, keeping him close against his side as they went to the bathroom. The cubicle was going to be a very tight squeeze, Enjolras saw. He and Grantaire were hardly a pair of waifs. But if Grantaire wanted to shower together, then Enjolras would make it happen, even if he had to spend it pressed flat against the tiles.

As it turned out, Grantaire had a similar idea, only using Enjolras as the thing he leaned against rather than the wall. They stood pressed together all down their fronts, Grantaire’s arms wrapped possessively around Enjolras’ waist. At another time, Enjolras would have teased, saying perhaps that Grantaire just wanted to spread the mess between them, or saying he’d have to turn around eventually if he ever wanted to be clean. But even gentle teasing hit Grantaire hard when he was like this. Anything other than absolute acceptance would embarrass him, his nerves running so close to the surface that the slightest move or word could sting.

But he trusted Enjolras not to let that happen.

His back under the spray, Enjolras kissed Grantaire’s temple, squeezing him lightly. “I love you.” He would dare anyone to be in his place right now and not feel this fierce tenderness, this need to protect and be gentle, this pride at how far Grantaire would push himself, exposing himself so completely.

They stayed in the shower for almost half an hour, Enjolras washing Grantaire down from head to toe and letting Grantaire soap him a little as well, spreading his hands through the lather and across Enjolras’ skin.

He was much more together when they got out and dried off, grinning as they walked naked from the bathroom to Enjolras’ bedroom. He let Enjolras help him into his pyjamas, and they brought the duvet out into the living room with them, falling onto the sofa and pulling it over them.

Enjolras pulled Grantaire’s legs over his lap and rubbed his hands over his ankles. “Sure you’re okay without some lotion?”

“I’m fine.” Grantaire sighed contentedly and leaned his head on Enjolras’ shoulder. “That was good. Really good. Really intense.”

“Yeah?” Enjolras smiled, turning to kiss Grantaire’s hair.

“Very vivid. You should be a writer.”

Enjolras laughed. “I’m alright, thanks. I’m flattered though.”

“You should be.” Grantaire yawned. “No one’s ever talked to me so much for sex, or a scene. Or like, talked me through it, if that makes sense.”

“More fool them. As long as you like it?”

“Never thought I’d like it as much as I do,” Grantaire admitted, grinning unashamedly. “You’re really good at it.”

“Well.” Enjolras lifted his arm to wrap it around Grantaire’s shoulders and squeeze. “You’re very inspiring.”

Grantaire laughed, cheeks pink. “Wasn’t I meant to blow you at some point though?”

“I changed my mind.”

“How come?”

Enjolras tsked and took Grantaire’s hand, checking his wrist. “Because we were both so close as it was, and you wanted very badly to come. And you’d been so good, I didn’t want to make you wait any longer.”

Grantaire curled closer against him, and out of the corner of his eye, Enjolras saw the beginnings of a blush on his neck.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t think you’d blow my mind, don’t worry.” Enjolras smiled and squeezed Grantaire’s fingers. “I always love your mouth.”

Whether or not it was because of the scene, Grantaire’s voice was soft when he replied. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. How’re your shoulders feeling?”

“Hot.” Grantaire rolled them with a pleased noise. “Achy. Very good. I thought…”

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d do more? Y’know, um. All around, not just…”

“I know.” Enjolras pursed his lips. “I think I’d probably go for it more if you were properly tied to something. Like the bar at your place, so you’re exposed for me, but something with space enough for me to move all around you.”

“You could make me move,” Grantaire pointed out. “I could turn in place.”

“Not if you were tied down at the ankles,” Enjolras said, almost to himself. “That’s a good idea though. We can try that.”

“Cool.” Grantaire settled, twisting his hand to slide his fingers through Enjolras’.

“Cool,” Enjolras echoed, smiling. Later on, or maybe tomorrow, he’d help Grantaire take pictures of any good marks he’d left, and they’d go over things in more detail, picking out things to repeat or new ideas to try.

Tomorrow, he decided, squeezing Grantaire’s hand. Right now, he didn’t want to stop holding Grantaire for even a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr (with other ways to support me) also as [myrmidryad!](myrmidryad.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras was hardly a stranger to using kink to deal with separate issues, and Grantaire had definitely started scenes anxious and jittery before, but that text hadn’t sounded like it had come from an anxious Grantaire. _Fuck me up._ It sounded upset. Like Grantaire wanted to be distracted.

Enjolras didn’t look up as keys jingled outside the door, waiting for Combeferre to come inside before leaning back on the sofa. “There’s quiche in the fridge.”

“I will never say a bad word about you again,” Combeferre sighed, dumping his bag by the door and going straight to the kitchenette. “You’re the perfect roommate, never leave me.”

“Did you forget to eat lunch or something?” Enjolras asked, smiling slightly.

“Didn’t so much forget as just didn’t have time. The last thing I ate was a banana, about five hours ago. Fruit isn’t filling, I don’t care what anyone says.” He put a full third of the quiche on a plate, grabbed a fork, and came to sit next to Enjolras. “How’s the research going?”

“Dull. I mean, it’s not dull really, but I don’t care about restaurant culture, or the military history of French cooking.”

“Hence the store-bought quiche?” Combeferre asked, mouth half full. “Did you get hungry, writing about food?”

“A bit. Do you know anything about Grantaire’s family?”

Combeferre raised his eyebrows, and swallowed before replying. “I can’t remember him ever saying anything about them, actually. He’s never mentioned siblings. He comes from somewhere in the Midi, doesn’t he?”

“Yes. And you’re right, he’s definitely an only child.” Enjolras frowned. “He told me today that one of his cousins is staying round for a couple of nights, so he won’t be able to come to Monday’s meeting.”

“You didn’t know he had cousins?” Combeferre guessed, taking another large bite of quiche.

“It’s not that. It just made me realise that he’s never actually talked about his family before. Ever. Even when he talks about being a kid, he says ‘my hometown’ not the actual name of wherever he lived.”

Combeferre considered that, the two of them sitting quietly as he chewed. “It upsets you because he hasn’t told you these things, and you’ve told him stuff about your family?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve held back a bit because he never reciprocates, but I don’t even know if his parents are alive. It just seems like something I should know.”

“You’ve only been going out a few months,” Combeferre reminded him. “You don’t have to tell each other everything.”

“I know. And I’m not going to push him on it.” Enjolras frowned. “I keep thinking of the worst-case scenarios now, that’s all.”

“You think he had a horrible childhood?”

“Maybe, if he’s so reluctant to talk about it.”

Combeferre glanced at his laptop, smiling. “Have you been researching how to talk to him about that possibility rather than restaurant culture, by any chance?”

Enjolras looked away. “I read two articles on it. And watched a video.”

“And your conclusions?”

“Not to push, same as I was already going to do.” Enjolras sighed. “I just wondered whether you knew anything more than I did.”

“Nope.” Combeferre didn’t caution him against asking someone like Marius, who might well know more. He knew Enjolras wouldn’t be so careless.

“Okay. It’s going to be different, without him on Monday.”

Combeferre grinned. “You already miss him, don’t you?”

“We’ve gone longer than this without seeing each other,” Enjolras said, trying not to sound defensive. Judging by the way Combeferre’s grin widened, he’d failed.

“You still miss him. This is very cute, I’m going to have to tell Courfeyrac.”

“Of course you are.” He’d long since resigned himself to having his ‘cute’ behaviour reported. It was worth it if it happened while he was with Grantaire, because it never failed to make him blush or duck his head and grin in a sheepish sort of way, like he was trying not to show how pleased he was.

It was well worth a bit of embarrassment to see Grantaire look like that.

 

On Tuesday afternoon, Grantaire texted. _Marius is at Cosette’s tonight. Come over?_

His cousin had left earlier, Enjolras remembered, and while at first he smiled to think that Grantaire had missed him enough to ask him over immediately, on rereading he frowned. It didn’t matter if Marius was there unless they were doing a scene, but they hadn’t planned anything.

 _Sure_ , he texted back. _What do you need?_

Grantaire didn’t text back for almost ten minutes. _Fuck me up_. A second later, _Please_.

Having his cousin over had obviously not been enjoyable for him. _I’ll be there in forty minutes at most_ , Enjolras texted back, and leaned forward to save his work and shut down his laptop. He’d finished the restaurant piece already, so all he had to do was email that to his editor tomorrow. Ten minutes were spent getting ready to go (packing an overnight bag, considering and then dismissing various implements to use on Grantaire), and then he was out. He texted Combeferre on his way to the métro to tell him he’d be out until tomorrow, and then turned his mind to planning a scene.

He’d never done this with Grantaire when they were anything other than fully enthusiastic, was the thing. Enjolras was hardly a stranger to using kink to deal with separate issues, and Grantaire had definitely started scenes anxious and jittery before, but that text hadn’t sounded like it had come from an anxious Grantaire. _Fuck me up_. It sounded upset. Like Grantaire wanted to be distracted.

_Fuck me up._

Grantaire wanted to be hurt right now, but all Enjolras wanted to do was wrap him up in a blanket and take care of him. Conflicts of interest didn’t tend to go down well in scene planning.

What could he do to compromise? Grantaire would want him at his most vicious, his most unyielding. He’d want Enjolras to pin him in place and punish him harshly if he stumbled or hesitated. And while Enjolras had several scenarios he’d thought up that would deliver those results, it was difficult to want to act them out right now.

 _Fuck me up_. Grantaire was hurting. And sometimes a beating wasn’t always the answer.

Cute phrases wouldn’t do the trick either though, so Enjolras put his headphones in and concentrated on things he could actually _do_.

By the time he reached Grantaire’s apartment, twenty minutes later, he had options ready to go, depending on how Grantaire actually was when he saw him.

Grantaire opened the door a second after he knocked – waiting nearby, clearly – and gave Enjolras a relieved, edgy smile. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Enjolras stepped in, letting the door swing shut behind him and cupping Grantaire’s elbow, drawing him in for a kiss. Just a quick press of lips, but Grantaire’s hands skimmed down his sides, hesitance in every line of his face when Enjolras pulled back to look, shrugging his bag off his shoulder and down to the floor. He was definitely upset. He was usually much more affectionate than this, less afraid of potential rejection. It hadn’t taken long for Enjolras to convince him that his touches would always be welcome, and for Grantaire to revert to this state was not a good sign.

On the upside, it meant that Enjolras now knew which route he would be taking in their scene. He knew there was no chance that Grantaire would allow him to call it off completely in favour of pure aftercare-style pampering and cuddling. More was the pity.

“Hey,” he said again, sliding his own hands around Grantaire’s shoulders and pulling him into a proper hug. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better.” Grantaire breathed out and wrapped his arms around Enjolras with more confidence. “I’ll be better still after this.”

“You want a scene?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Enjolras pressed his palm between Grantaire’s shoulder blades and stroked it down. “You seem upset.”

“I’m not, I’m just.” Grantaire took a breath and sighed it out. “I’m just jittery. It’s fine.” _You know what I’m like_ , went unspoken. _You know I get like this sometimes_.

Maybe Grantaire really believed that. Enjolras didn’t know him well enough to be sure yet, even now.

“You want me to take you down?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I have caveats though, for today.”

“Why?” Grantaire drew back, brow furrowed, and Enjolras looped his arms around his waist to keep him close.

“It’s unplanned, that’s all. And I don’t want to beat you today.”

Grantaire’s face fell, his grip on Enjolras slackening. “Why?” he asked again, sounding almost betrayed. Enjolras’ heart thumped in his chest, and he leaned in to kiss Grantaire’s cheek.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you today.”

“But…”

“You don’t think I can take you down without hitting you?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow, cool and imperious. “I’m insulted.”

“It’s not, I didn’t mean it like that.” Grantaire pulled away, and Enjolras let him go, watching as he ducked his head and pushed a hand through his hair, tugging at the tangles. “I want to get out of my head,” he said finally, not looking up. “I want to…”

“I know.” Enjolras watched his every move. “Trust me. If it’s too difficult, I’ll switch it up. I always have backup plans.”

It was definitely a mark of how unmoored Grantaire was that he didn’t protest Enjolras’ suggestion that anything would be too difficult for him. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Fine.”

“Good.” Enjolras picked up his bag. “Bedroom.” He started walking without checking whether Grantaire would follow, trusting that he would.

“Bedroom?” Grantaire trailed him uncertainly.

“Mmhm. I’m changing into something more comfortable.”

Grantaire didn’t protest, and stood with his eyes averted as Enjolras changed quickly from jeans into pyjama bottoms, sorting through the contents of his bag at the same time. He hadn’t brought anything more than a blindfold, but he didn’t want to use it. They had plenty of supplies here anyway. A check into the bottom drawer of Grantaire’s dresser confirmed that there was plenty of rope here for what he had planned.

“Okay.” He straightened and beckoned Grantaire forward to stand by the end of the bed. “Safewords?”

“Red for stop, yellow to pause, green to go,” Grantaire recited, a familiar litany.

“Right now?”

“I’m green.” Grantaire flashed him a look that was too tense to be challenging, and Enjolras nodded.

“Okay. Hands behind your back. Hold one of your wrists.”

Grantaire obeyed at once, head bowed and shoulders tight. Enjolras stepped into his space, their bodies inches apart, and murmured, “Kiss me.”

There was a predictable hesitation, but Grantaire lifted his head a second later and pressed his lips to Enjolras’. Soft at first, but he opened his mouth when Enjolras did, responding to the unspoken encouragement.

“Good,” Enjolras murmured when they drew apart. Grantaire kept his eyes lowered, his breathing erratic, coming almost in pants. “Slow down,” Enjolras told him. “Breathe with me. In and out.” He demonstrated, watching as Grantaire closed his eyes and tried to copy him. “That’s much better,” Enjolras said, once Grantaire didn’t sound like he was about to start hyperventilating. “Keep it up, nice and slow.”

In, and out. He listened to Grantaire breathe, watched some of the tension slide out of his shoulders on his exhalations. It was like he was on the edge of breaking into tears, maybe an indication of how exposed he was feeling. “That’s good,” Enjolras murmured, not drawing attention to it – it would only embarrass Grantaire. This close, he didn’t need to speak louder than an undertone. “Keep breathing for me, nice and even.” A pause to check for any reticence, and then Enjolras said, “I want you to go down on your knees for me. Colour?”

Grantaire was already sinking to the floor. “Green,” he muttered, pulling his knees together, shifting so he was comfortable.

“Very good.” God, he was beautiful. Enjolras drew in a slow breath of his own, mesmerised for a second by the back of Grantaire’s neck, bared in supplication. “Very elegant,” he added, and went on, forcing himself to ignore any embarrassment at sounding silly or overly sentimental. “You kneel like a sculpture, I love the way it looks. Kneel up a bit for me now.” As Grantaire obeyed, Enjolras slid a hand into his hair and tugged forward gently until Grantaire’s face was brushing his crotch. “In and out,” he reminded Grantaire, hearing his breathing skip. “Keep breathing slowly for me. What’s your colour?”

“Green,” Grantaire murmured. Eyelids still fluttering a bit, he pressed his nose forward, breathing in deeply. Enjolras felt the heat of his exhale and rubbed his thumb against Grantaire’s scalp.

“Kiss me. Use your mouth, Grantaire.”

No hesitation this time. Grantaire tilted his head up and opened his mouth, and Enjolras bit his lip as Grantaire’s tongue pressed against his cock, which was swelling steadily under the attention.

“Perfect,” he breathed, keeping his hand in Grantaire’s hair gentle, just an anchoring point. “Just like that.” He allowed (indulged in) another few seconds of Grantaire mouthing at him through the material, then tightened his grip on his hair a fraction. “Pull back now.”

Grantaire did, mouth still open and breathing unsteady once more. From here, Enjolras could see how hard he was holding onto his wrist behind his back, both hands balled into tight fists.

“Breathe on my count,” Enjolras told him. “In…and out…in…out…like that, that’s right.” With his free hand, he pushed the waistband of his pyjamas down and curled a hand around his cock, lifting it up. “Close your mouth. I just want your lips.” Carefully, he guided Grantaire’s head forward until his mouth was pressed to the tip of his cock. He was fully hard now – faced with Grantaire like this, Enjolras couldn’t imagine any way he couldn’t be. “Kiss me,” he murmured, giving a soft hum of approval when Grantaire obeyed. “Perfect. Give me a colour.”

“Green.” Enjolras felt the word more than he heard it, a gust of warm air over the now-wet head of his cock.

“Excellent. Kiss me again, and open your mouth this time, very slowly.” The idea was for Grantaire to lose himself to sensation, unable to think between the orders Enjolras gave him. They had to be small and easily achieved, and Grantaire had to have proof of his work. If physical evidence wasn’t enough, then Enjolras would tell him the effect he was having.

“I wonder if you know how much I love watching you when you do this for me,” Enjolras murmured, not even blinking as Grantaire took the first inch of his cock into his mouth, fixated on seeing everything as it happened. “Back and forth a little now, just like that…I could watch you do this forever. Use your tongue, Grantaire – _yes_.” Enjolras was the one whose breath shook now, but he’d had practice keeping his brain working enough to narrate when all he wanted to do was moan. “Ah. No further than halfway down, okay? That’s perfect, you’re so good…I think about you like this so much, all the time. Just thinking about it, picturing it in my head, do you have any idea how fast I can get hard, if I do that? You’re so good at this.”

Grantaire pulled back, the slick drag of his lips over Enjolras’ cock incredible. “Not as good as you,” he muttered, lips brushing skin before he slid back down, pushing forward as much as he was allowed.

“No?” Enjolras shifted his fingers in Grantaire’s hair, hoping he could feel them tremble. “You think just because you can’t deepthroat you’re not as good? I think it makes you more versatile. And,” his lips twitched, “it’s a little flattering, I won’t lie.” He grinned when Grantaire huffed a laugh, stroking his fingers against Grantaire’s scalp as a reward, an extra sensation to focus on, something else to distract Grantaire from whatever was in his own head.

He was so beautiful. Enjolras would have to save that for later though, for when it wouldn’t bring up an automatic denial. Even if Grantaire didn’t voice it, Enjolras could tell when he thought it.

For now, he took a breath and started to talk again. “I think it’s more that it’s you giving me the blowjob that kills me, really.” Grantaire glanced up at him, lips wet and pupils wide, and Enjolras’ stomach jumped with pleasure. “Do you know what you look like? I bet you can imagine, but it’s not as good as the real thing, Grantaire, it never is.” He had to be honest like this, he had to exchange some of his own truths for Grantaire’s vulnerability. “It isn’t for me, anyway.” Jesus, that tongue. “You’re so…the way you close your eyes when you do this, it kills me, I don’t even know why, but I love it.” A shaking breath. “I love you. Pull off.”

Grantaire obeyed at once, his breathing ragged even though Enjolras hadn’t allowed him to go deep enough to restrict it at all. Enjolras didn’t scold, just slid his hand back until he was cupping Grantaire’s skull, encouraging him to lean his forehead against the place where his thigh met his hip. “Slower,” he murmured. “In an out, just like before. I’ve got you.”

Grantaire pressed his head into Enjolras’ hip – maybe a nod? – and took deeper breaths. Enjolras rubbed his thumb back and forth through Grantaire’s curls and hummed in approval. “Better, that’s right. Colour?”

Grantaire inhaled before answering. “Green.”

“Good. I want you to kiss your way up my body to my mouth.”

“How many?” Grantaire mumbled, eyes still closed.

Enjolras decided on the spot. “Eleven. Do it slowly, and I’ll count.”

Grantaire turned his face where he was and opened his lips against the crease of Enjolras’ thigh, mouth warm over the skin. His expression was so soft that Enjolras found himself pressing his free hand hard against his leg, fighting the urge to touch, to cradle Grantaire’s face and kneel down to hold him properly. But there would be time for that later, when they were done. For now, he was following his own commands as much as Grantaire was. “One.”

Grantaire knelt up a fraction and kissed Enjolras’ abdomen, dead centre. There was no way he couldn’t have noticed Enjolras’ cock twitch, but they both ignored it. “Two.”

And up, one slow, open-mouthed kiss at a time, from Enjolras’ belly to his shoulder. The tenth kiss on his neck made him groan, the heat and bulk of Grantaire’s body so close and the feeling of his lips finally against skin instead of shirt electric after such a slow progression to that point.

“Ten,” he breathed. “Stay there, I want an extra kiss right there.” Grantaire obeyed, his hair tickling Enjolras’ jaw. “Eleven,” he said, and turned his head to meet Grantaire as he went to kiss him. What was probably intended to be a gentle kiss like the others swiftly turned fierce and deep, and Enjolras finally allowed himself to hold onto Grantaire’s hip with his free hand the way he’d wanted to since Grantaire had straightened up. “Twelve,” he muttered, pulling away just a fraction to say it. He didn’t need to pull Grantaire in again – he swayed forwards without encouragement, kissing Enjolras with a nervy, desperate sort of edge.

When they parted again, Enjolras pulling back, Grantaire started to beg. “Please, please, I need…”

Enjolras cupped his jaw, a rock for Grantaire to lean against. “What do you need?”

“I – my hands.” Grantaire wouldn’t meet his eyes, brows pinched together. “Please, Enjolras.”

Of course. “You want to be tied up?”

Grantaire bowed his head further. “Yes.”

“And you will be.” Enjolras didn’t pull his head back up, keeping the hand on his face gentle. “But it’ll happen when I decide, okay?”

“…okay.” So quiet, and still anxious. Enjolras consciously relaxed his face, now not being the time to frown. He had to clamp down on a surge of doubt as well, the ever-present fear that he was reading Grantaire’s signals wrong, that he was hurting more than helping. It was why he checked colours so often, reassuring himself that he wasn’t doing the wrong thing.

An easy question then, to put them both at ease. “Do you trust me?”

Grantaire’s answer was much more certain this time. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Say it back to me, now.” He’d had this idea for a while, making Grantaire repeat compliments or affirmations, and as Grantaire replied – “You’ve got me.” – Enjolras felt that familiar mix of relief and satisfaction.

“Good. Again.”

“You’ve got me.”

Enjolras smiled. “Again.”

“You’ve got me.” Already, Grantaire was standing easier, speaking louder.

“Very good.” Enjolras kissed his temple, hiding another smile as Grantaire whispered it again, apparently to himself.

“You’ve got me.”

“Yes I do.” Enjolras kissed him again and drew back to look at his face. “How are you doing?”

“Better.” Grantaire met his eyes for a second before looking down again. He still seemed unhappy – Enjolras guessed he was still overthinking everything.

“Well we’re a long way from done yet.” Enjolras kissed his cheekbone, lips pressing to the skin as light as he dared. “I want you to undress for me now, okay? Shirt first, go on.” He nodded as Grantaire took a step back (and took the opportunity to pull his pyjama bottoms back up). “Go on,” he prompted again. “Slowly.”

Grantaire sucked his lower lip between his teeth, but ducked his head and obediently pulled his shirt forward over his head, noticeably slower than he normally would. His hair emerged tousled, but Enjolras kept his hands still rather than lifting them to smooth it. “Just drop it to the side,” he told Grantaire softly.

Grantaire did, and kept undressing at Enjolras’ murmured commands, removing socks, trousers, and underwear until he stood naked before him. Enjolras didn’t miss the way he fidgeted with his hands for a moment, arms up to cover his belly, before he dropped his hands to his sides.

“Very good,” he smiled, not mentioning it. “Now you’re going to undress me, and you’ll kiss every place I say. So if I say…right wrist –”

Grantaire took his wrist in his hands without waiting, lifting it to his mouth to press his lips to the thin skin on the inside, where Enjolras’ veins were visible beneath the surface.

“Perfect,” Enjolras whispered. “Just like that. Take off my shirt, Grantaire. Slowly.” He watched every expression that flickered over Grantaire’s face as he obeyed, hands gently pushing the material of Enjolras’ shirt up, fingers curling under and lifting it as Enjolras raised his arms. A brief moment of sightlessness as the material covered Enjolras’ face, and then it was gone, dropped to the floor with Grantaire’s clothes. And the whole time, Grantaire’s lips were parted, his eyes never rising above the level of Enjolras’ chest. No tightness around his eyes or mouth, nothing to indicate tension, so Enjolras hummed in approval. “Now my socks. You’ll have to go down on your knees again.”

Grantaire sank down immediately, fingertips brushing Enjolras’ left ankle.

“Very good,” Enjolras told him, pushing a hand into his hair for balance and lifting his foot. “Take it off.” And once Grantaire had, and Enjolras’ foot was on the floor again – “My ankle, Grantaire.” For a second, he didn’t think Grantaire had understood, but as soon as Enjolras loosened his grip in his hair, Grantaire bent down, spine curving, and kissed Enjolras’ ankle. He twisted his head to the side to touch his lips to the bone, one hand still cupping Enjolras’ heel as if he was made of something delicate and breakable.

“The front of my foot,” Enjolras breathed, licking his lips as Grantaire kissed him there without hesitation, his mouth warm and wet. “Perfect. Now take off my other sock.” Grantaire rose up to let Enjolras use his head for balance again, and when Enjolras tugged gently, he smiled to see Grantaire’s eyes flutter closed. Once his sock had been removed, he tightened his grip again. Not enough to hurt, just to see Grantaire’s reaction, to see him close his eyes again and hear the way he inhaled, shallow and quick and wanting.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, loosening his grip. “Take off my pyjamas, Grantaire.”

Grantaire’s hands flew to Enjolras’ hips and trembled there for a second before he slid his fingers under the waistband and pulled it down. Enjolras’ cock had softened a little, but with Grantaire kneeling naked in front of him, taking away the last barrier between them, it was definitely stirring again. “See what you do to me?” Enjolras grinned, stepping out of his pyjama bottoms. “Right thigh, Grantaire.”

Grantaire breathed out though his nose as he pressed his mouth to Enjolras’ leg, faultlessly obedient.

“That’s right,” Enjolras told him, stroking a gentle hand through his hair. “Go down now – my knee next.” He lifted his foot onto Grantaire’s thigh to make it easier. “Touch me, Grantaire. One hand on the back of my thigh – yes, perfect – the other on my calf.” He could see the picture they made in his head, visualising it from the side. Grantaire kneeling, supplicant, and Enjolras above him, one foot holding him down even as Grantaire held him there, keeping himself in place as much as Enjolras did.

“You’re so good,” he told Grantaire, cupping his jaw and tilting it up. “My fingers, Grantaire, here…” And Grantaire turned his head to kiss Enjolras’ fingertips, expression rapturous now, brows tilted in something like desperation. “Excellent,” Enjolras praised, dragging his middle finger across the wet skin of Grantaire’s lower lip. “Open your mouth a little, and suck.”

They both loved this. Grantaire adored his hands, and Enjolras was a little obsessed with the way Grantaire looked when he sucked Enjolras’ fingers, like it was the greatest privilege that might be snatched away at any second. He seemed to waver between reverence and greed, his tongue twisting and rubbing, teeth applied gently and then almost too hard, like he wanted to keep Enjolras there forever.

“Mmmmm.” Enjolras stroked Grantaire’s chin with his thumb, eyes lidded with pleasure. “You’re so good at this, like your mouth was made for it. I love how wild you look, Aire. I need to take pictures of this one day – do you know how pink your cheeks go when you do this? It’s stunning.” He slid his fingers out of Grantaire’s mouth, keeping them pressed against his lips. “How’re you doing?”

“Better.” Grantaire sounded much more sure, though he kept his eyes closed.

“Good. Get up and stand against the wall over there. With your back against it,” he clarified, when Grantaire rose and looked over at the wall a little uncertainly. He went, and Enjolras kept talking, wiping his fingers on the duvet as he went to get the rope he’d seen earlier. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry. I know it’s harder without being restrained.” He looked over his shoulder and smirked as he lifted up a length of rope. A little dramatic flair was never a bad thing, especially when it made Grantaire’s lips twitch. “What do you say?”

“Thank you.” He said it quietly, seriously, while on another day he might have first pointed out that Enjolras hadn’t actually done anything with the rope yet to warrant thanks. Enjolras stood up, black rope heavy in his hands, and went over to Grantaire.

“Kiss me.”

Grantaire kept his hands against the wall as he did, and Enjolras smiled and drew away after a few seconds. “Very good. Now come forward, and kneel for me.” He stepped back to give Grantaire room to go down, and then knelt next to him, far back enough that he could tie Grantaire easily. “I’m going to put you in a box tie, just your arms and chest. Give me a colour.”

“Green.” Grantaire sounded so much more settled, just from the prospect of being tied up. He’d already put his arms behind his back, wrists parallel. Enjolras stroked a hand down his shoulder and kissed the back of his head.

“Very good. Keep your breathing even for me, that’s all you have to do now.” Enjolras squeezed Grantaire’s upper arm, then reached for the rope, pulling it out of its bundle and finding the middle easily, wrapping it in a cuff around Grantaire’s wrists. They didn’t usually talk when Enjolras was doing anything that required more concentration than cuffs, but Enjolras didn’t want Grantaire to focus on the silence.

So, “Up and over,” he muttered, lifting the tail of the rope and draping it over Grantaire’s right shoulder, drawing it around to go under his left arm. “Through and up…” Through the rope cuff and up over the left shoulder, under the right arm. “Around again…” Over Grantaire’s upper arms this time, pulling them a little closer against his body. “And back.” Through the cuff once more, reversing direction to increase the tension, and around his arms again. Saying the instructions out loud was how he remembered new ties, but usually when he was using them in a scene he would either say them in his head or just mouth them to prompt his memory, making sure he remembered every step.

Grantaire’s breathing was slow and steady, his head lowered. Enjolras cinched each of his arms, wrapping the rope around itself to make it secure enough that Grantaire wouldn’t be able to move an inch, and tied it off, checking the tightness with his fingers. “Beautiful. How does it feel, Grantaire?”

“Green,” Grantaire mumbled. “I mean – good, it feels good.”

Enjolras didn’t bother holding back his grin, since Grantaire couldn’t see him. “Give me a colour for tying your thighs to your ankles.”

“Green.” Instant, eager, and Enjolras bent to kiss his shoulder.

“Very good. I’ll help you lie down.” Grantaire slid his legs out in front of him, and Enjolras’ hands on his shoulder and head kept his backwards descent controlled as he lay down, bringing his knees up as soon as he was there. He looked up at Enjolras and didn’t smile, just watched. Completely faithful, entirely trusting. Not a shred of doubt that Enjolras wouldn’t do as he’d said he would.

“Good.” Enjolras stroked a hand down Grantaire’s chest, over the rope, down his belly and skipping the ticklish part of his abdomen in favour of going straight to his thigh, squeezing his knee when he got there. “Lovely. Alright, thighs to ankles.”

He and Grantaire had never discussed it, but since that first time when Grantaire had overbalanced and safeworded, Enjolras hadn’t tied his legs together like that again without planning it properly first. Grantaire apparently hated losing his balance unless it was part of the scene, and a tie like this, which allowed him to spread his legs to essentially neutralise that risk, was perfect.

Enjolras kept up his muttered recitation of the instructions as he wound the rope around Grantaire’s legs. “Lark’s head…and around…and through…through the gap…and again…again…split, and tighten…”

First one leg, then the other, and Grantaire alternated between watching Enjolras’ face and closing his eyes, breathing as steadily as he’d been told.

“Perfect,” Enjolras murmured when it was done. “Alright, twist up onto your knees, I’ll help.” He slipped a hand under Grantaire’s shoulder and helped him up, running his hands over the box tie again, then down to check the rope around Grantaire’s legs. “Feeling okay?”

Grantaire nodded heavily.

“Good.” Enjolras stood up and slid his hand into Grantaire’s hair, tugging gently. “You look perfect. I wonder if we could set up mirrors some time so you could see the way you look when you’re like this.” He pulled Grantaire’s head back, exposing his throat and keeping a close eye on his expression. His eyes were closed, mouth open, and his cheeks were flushed. “I want you all the time now,” Enjolras told him, unable to look away. “Not just for this either. Normal things, like cooking and sleeping and just…being in the same space, doing different things. I always want you around. I can’t imagine not having you now.”

Grantaire’s breathing was still slow, but it was shaking a little on the exhales. Enjolras rubbed his thumb against Grantaire’s scalp, keeping his head pulled back. “I can’t imagine how I lived before having you. I love you so much, and I love the way you love me back.” Grantaire’s breath shuddered, and Enjolras tightened his grip in his hair. “I love you. Say it back to me.”

Grantaire swallowed. “I…”

“You,” Enjolras corrected.

“You…” Grantaire swallowed again. “You love me.”

“Yes I do. Go down for me, Grantaire.” Enjolras knelt, pushing Grantaire’s head down slowly until his forehead was on the floor, letting go to let him find a comfortable place. “Perfect. Keep breathing, Grantaire, nice and slow.” He slid his hands down Grantaire’s back, checking his temperature, checking the knots and tension of the rope. “I love how much you trust me. And I love how much you like it. Does this feel good?”

Grantaire trembled, and stilled under Enjolras’ soothing hands. “Yes.”

“Good.” Enjolras swept his hands apart, one fondling the curls at the nape of Grantaire’s neck, the other stroking his thigh, firm enough not to tickle. “I know I’m always the one making you thank me for things, but I hope you know how grateful I am too. For your honesty, you know? For telling me how much you like this, being helpless and letting me hold you steady. I’ll always keep you steady, you know. I’ll always keep you on track.” A kiss, dropped to Grantaire’s shoulder, and a quick peek at Grantaire’s expression.

God, he was beautiful. Lips wet and parted, eyelids trembling. So close to letting go.

“I’ll always keep you safe like this,” Enjolras murmured, pressing their sides together, wanting to make sure Grantaire could feel his warmth. “I’ll make sure you don’t stray or make mistakes. All those little things you worry about, I’ll take them away and tie them down, like I tie you down, just like this.” He pressed the ropes into Grantaire’s skin, heart jumping when Grantaire’s breath tightened on an inhale to something like a whimper.

“I’ve got you,” Enjolras told him, pushing one hand into Grantaire’s hair to press his head just a little more into the carpet. “You can’t go anywhere, Grantaire. You can’t move an inch in any direction. You’re completely at my mercy.” There again – that almost-a-whimper, the last of Grantaire’s tension finally bleeding out of him. “You’re mine,” Enjolras told him, leaning close to see the way it made Grantaire’s eyes roll back in his head a little. “You’re so good, I’m never letting you go. I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you.”

He kept touching Grantaire, murmuring praise, reminding him to breathe slowly, pressing the ropes into him to see Grantaire smile, finally smile, the delirious little curl of his lips that only appeared when he was no longer thinking, only experiencing. That Enjolras knew him well enough now to recognise it was always a relief, even though he’d been able to read that cue since their earliest sessions.

“I’m going to help you sit up now, love,” he told Grantaire several long minutes later. “Colour?”

“Green.” Grantaire swayed into him when Enjolras helped him sit, his face flushed red, eyes still closed.

“Very good. I’m going to untie your arms first. Lean into me, alright?”

“Mmhm.” Grantaire was soft and pliant now, sighing when Enjolras undid the knots and released the tension of the ropes, revealing pink lines across Grantaire’s skin that would fade quickly. Enjolras kept Grantaire against him, back to his chest, as he untied his legs next. It was harder from this angle, but much nicer to feel Grantaire breathing softly against his neck, his hair tickling Enjolras’ cheek.

“That was good,” Grantaire said quietly as Enjolras helped him to his feet. “It helped.”

“Told you I didn’t have to hit you.” Enjolras smiled and kissed him, soft with no tongue. “Pyjamas and sofa?”

“And food,” Grantaire nodded, closing his eyes again and taking a breath. When he opened them, he seemed to be more alert. “There’re some cookies somewhere, I think.”

“Perfect.” Enjolras kissed his temple and found Grantaire’s pyjamas in the folds of his duvet. “These first.” Grantaire always allowed Enjolras to do things like this now, to help him get dressed, to stay close enough to touch. It always made Enjolras’ heart flutter stupidly, being allowed to show how much he cared. He dressed himself quickly, back into his pyjama bottoms and a soft t-shirt he had in his bag, and he brought the duvet out to the living room, indicating for Grantaire to sit on the sofa and let himself be bundled up.

Grantaire smiled up at him with tired eyes, amused. “This was your goal all along, wasn’t it?”

“I want to lavish affection on my boyfriend, sue me.” Enjolras smiled back, unrepentant. “Cookies in the snack cupboard?”

“Mmhm.”

Enjolras went to the kitchen. “Tea or juice?”

“Um. What’re you having?”

“Tea.”

“Tea then.”

“Two teas,” Enjolras muttered to himself, apparently unable to stop smiling. He brought the cookies to Grantaire while the kettle boiled, and they batted options for movies or TV shows back and forth until they decided on an anime Joly had apparently insisted Grantaire needed to watch.

“It inspired Inception, so you’ll probably like it,” Grantaire told him, and grinned properly when Enjolras flopped half on top of him for a tight hug, indulging the desire to get as close as physically possible. He ended up falling asleep halfway through, so Enjolras stopped it playing and just sat there for a while, Grantaire’s head in his lap. He’d ask about his family at some point, but not today. Probably not even soon. At least Grantaire was feeling better now, Enjolras thought, pulling the duvet a little higher over Grantaire’s shoulder. That was the important thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr (with other ways to support me) also as [myrmidryad!](myrmidryad.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denial wasn’t something Grantaire had ever gone for as the focus of a scene, but he’d agreed to try this just to see what it would be like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that I have decided to make Your Desires and Mine a multi-chapter fic! Keep Your Heart Slow is now chapter 2, and I'll probably add to this whenever I get the urge. I am 100% blaming the wonderful kinktober fics I've been reading this month for this instalment, and want to give a special shout-out to a wonderful comic I bought recently called Captain Imani and the Cosmic Chase (see [here](https://www.alexassanart.com/cosmic-chase) for more info about that) which definitely inspired the flavour of the scene.

Enjolras watched as Grantaire eased the plug in, not even noticing he was leaning forward until Grantaire smirked at him. “See something you like?”

“Very much indeed.” Enjolras reached out with one foot and nudged the curve of Grantaire’s bare ass. “Colour?”

“Green.” Grantaire knelt up and stretched, giving Enjolras an excellent view of his back and shoulder muscles at work. He let his arms fall with a pleased sigh and turned to face Enjolras. “What now?”

“Legs.” Enjolras got up and moved Grantaire to where he needed to be, and began to tie him up.

He was looking forward to this scene a lot, and he couldn’t quite keep the smile out of his voice as he checked in with Grantaire after each tie. Denial wasn’t something Grantaire had ever gone for as the focus of a scene, but he’d agreed to try this just to see what it would be like. Enjolras couldn’t wait. Trying out the new spreader bar he’d bought was a bonus.

The bar went between Grantaire’s knees. Or just below, actually, so he could bend them and press the soles of his feet together. There, Enjolras tied them in place. Rope around his ankles and around both feet, essentially locking them together in a sort of prayer hold. “Comfortable?” he checked. Grantaire nodded, shifting in place a bit to check them and closing his eyes for a second when he sat properly on the plug.

“Feels good.”

“I’ll bet,” Enjolras smirked. Grantaire snorted at him. “Hands.” He tied Grantaire’s wrists in cuffs joined by a few inches of rope. Plenty of space for what Grantaire was going to be doing. Attached to that bit of slack was another length of rope that was long enough for Enjolras to hold like a leash. “Colour?”

“Green.”

“Excellent.” Enjolras put the lube between Grantaire’s legs and then got up and sat behind Grantaire, his own legs either side of him. “Whenever you’re ready then.”

“So, now?” Grantaire said dryly, and that wouldn’t do. Enjolras pushed the hand not holding the end of the rope leash into Grantaire’s hair and squeezed a big handful, pulling hard.

“No need to be sarcastic,” he said mildly, tugging Grantaire’s head back so they could look at each other. Grantaire gave him a big smile, not even a little bit perturbed by having his hair pulled so hard it was actually lifting his eyebrows a bit. “If you need a stronger hand, you only need to ask.”

“You’re feeling pretty strong as it is,” Grantaire grinned, and Enjolras gave him an extra little yank.

“Touch yourself.”

“You got it.” Grantaire reached for the lube, and Enjolras released his grip so Grantaire could look down and find it. He kept his hand in Grantaire’s hair though, rubbing his fingers against his scalp for a moment. He didn’t normally talk back so much, which Enjolras put down to nerves. Grantaire poured lube into his hand and started to stroke himself, leaning back against the chair and humming with pleasure when Enjolras pulled gently on his hair. He was going slowly – no doubt because he knew he was going to be made to stop at some point and he didn’t want to get himself too worked up, so Enjolras nudged the underside of his thigh.

“Faster.”

Grantaire huffed, but obeyed. With the way Grantaire was leaned back, Enjolras had a truly excellent view down his body, and he smiled as Grantaire started to clench around the plug. Experimentation had shown that Grantaire could get off spectacularly fast if he was using Enjolras’ prostate massager, and he wouldn’t have been able to sit on it that comfortably either, so he was just using a normal plug for this.

“What are you thinking about?” Enjolras asked idly, swapping his hands so the one holding the rope was in Grantaire’s hair, and his empty one could slide down the side of Grantaire’s neck to his shoulder, making him shiver.

“This,” Grantaire murmured. His eyes had closed, head tipping wherever Enjolras pulled it now. “You.”

“No fantasies?”

“You fucking me,” Grantaire amended. “But, y’know, this too.” He pulled his head away from Enjolras’ hand, and grinned when it made Enjolras pull back harder. “That’s nice.”

“It’s nice now,” Enjolras agreed. He leaned forward so he could slide his hand down to Grantaire’s nipple, tracing circles around it. He heard Grantaire swallow, and watched his hands on his cock. One around the base, the other sliding over the top, the ridges of his fingers sliding past his frenulum on each stroke. He let Grantaire continue until he was tightening his grip on the upstroke, and then said, “Stop.”

“Fucking…” Grantaire groaned, but stopped moving his hands.

“No,” Enjolras said. “Hands off completely.”

Grantaire made a wordless, quiet sound of protest, but lifted his hands away. Enjolras could see his thighs move as he clenched down rhythmically on the plug, but it was never going to be enough to get him off. “Green?” he checked.

“Green,” Grantaire said, eyes closed. Enjolras pressed down on his nipple, the first direct contact with it, and felt a pulse of heat in his belly as Grantaire arched his back and inhaled, sharp and quiet.

“Good,” Enjolras murmured. “Start.”

Grantaire’s hands jerked back to his cock to start stroking himself again, tension in his shoulders easing as he did. Enjolras tamped down on a thrum of excitement. He’d known watching Grantaire do this would be good, but it was so much better in reality. Grantaire’s deeper breaths and fluttering eyelids, the way he bit down on his lower lip, his fingers shining as he worked himself – he was gorgeous, and he was all Enjolras’ to play with.

“Stop.”

Grantaire took a deep breath before obeying, fingers uncurling reluctantly. He started to shift as soon as he let go of himself, legs pushing and pulling against the spreader bar and the ropes around his feet, grinding down a little against the carpet. He was slumped against the chair too much for his cock to touch the floor, and his legs were spread too wide for it to touch his thighs. Enjolras let him suffer for a few seconds more, then tugged his hair. “Start.”

Grantaire did so, obviously trying to go slowly. Enjolras scuppered those plans by distracting him, running his fingers through his hair and giving sharp little tugs, playing with Grantaire’s nipple with his other hand. It didn’t take long at all for Grantaire to speed up again, and Enjolras kept his voice intentionally devoid of anticipation as he said, “Stop,” again.

Grantaire gave himself one more stroke before letting go, and Enjolras grinned, glad Grantaire couldn’t see his face. “Start.”

Grantaire picked up exactly where he’d left off, and Enjolras leaned down to kiss the shell of his ear. “Do you think I haven’t noticed?”

“Mm?” Grantaire cracked his eyes open slightly, but only for a second. “What?”

“Your less-than-prompt responses to my commands? I’m not asking for much here, Grantaire.” His mocking tone made Grantaire bite down on his lip again, harder than before. “I expect better from you.”

“Nggh. Sorry,” Grantaire mumbled, and Enjolras snorted, giving his nipple a pinch as he sat up again.

“I’m not convinced. Luckily, I’m not relying on your frankly useless impulse control.” Without warning, he used the leash to yank Grantaire’s hands up and away from his cock. Grantaire gave a little cry of surprise and frustration, hands clenching on air. “Isn’t it a good thing I’m here to help with that?” Enjolras smirked. “What do you say?”

Grantaire groaned, but said, “Thank you.”

“Good.”

And so it continued. It was even better like this, giving Grantaire no warning before pulling his hands away, the rope probably burning a little against his shoulder where it was resting, Enjolras’ hand wrapped around it and resting on his thigh. Enjolras teased him, letting him jerk himself until he was getting close before stopping him, then letting him start again just a couple of seconds later, then pulling him away again after only one stroke.

“Fuck!” Grantaire tossed his head back as much as he could. “Fuck, Enjolras, please…”

“Colour?”

Grantaire gave a frustrated sound. “Green.”

Enjolras let his hands drop as a reward, and yanked them away almost immediately. Grantaire cried out. “For fuck’s sake! Come on, please!”

Enjolras laughed, thrilled by Grantaire’s reaction. He always swore, yes, but never _at_ Enjolras. “At my pace, or not at all,” he said smoothly, and very, very slowly lowered Grantaire’s hands until his outstretched fingers could just brush his cock.

Grantaire pulled down, reaching, and Enjolras actually hard to exert real strength to stop him. When he gave in, Grantaire tipped his head back with a sigh of relief, jerking himself off with no finesse at all now. Enjolras let him, for a few seconds, then pulled his hands away again. Grantaire twisted between his legs, almost getting his hands to himself again. “You bastard, please, please, let me just…fuck, come on, Enjolras, come on!”

Enjolras could feel his blood pulsing in his heart and cock equally, hard as hell in his jeans and hot with satisfaction at how well this was going.

“I don’t think so,” he said, and lifted his feet to step down onto Grantaire’s thighs, the hard soles of his boots digging into bare flesh. He knew from experience that pushing down on Grantaire’s thighs like that would force him to clench around the plug, and Grantaire made a gorgeous sound as he did, a sort of gasping moan. He was helpless, squirming fruitlessly in his bonds, and Enjolras drank it all in.

“Such language,” he said mildly. “I’m not very impressed. Are you listening to me?”

Grantaire nodded, and swallowed before answering. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to lower your hands, but you’re only allowed to tap yourself, do you understand? Any more than that, and you won’t get anything.”

Grantaire nodded again, face already strained at the prospect. 

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Alright.” Enjolras lowered his hands as promised, and Grantaire wrapped one around the base of his cock, and touched two fingers of the other to his frenulum, just holding them there for a second before starting to stroke the spot, very gently, lifting his fingers away after each one. More brushing than tapping, but Enjolras wasn’t in the mood to quibble semantics. It was a shame he couldn’t see the underside of Grantaire’s dick where the action was taking place, but he could see the effect it was having on him.

Grantaire was flushed pink, the colour starting to inch down his chest, and his skin burned to touch. Not much more of this, and he would start to sweat, Enjolras was sure of it. His breathing was already heavier, heart beating as hard as Enjolras’ own. “Good,” he whispered, and lifted the rope. “That’s enough, I think.”

Grantaire started twisting again at once with a low groan, and Enjolras pulled the rope tighter, trapping Grantaire’s hands against his chest. “Shhhh.”

“You shhh,” Grantaire muttered, squirming, and hummed when Enjolras twisted a handful of his hair and tutted.

“No need for that. I think I’m being generous, under the circumstances.” Gently, he lowered Grantaire’s hands again. “Tapping only, Grantaire.”

“Fuck,” Grantaire breathed, expression twisting as he resumed the tiny strokes that were cruelly stimulating on the most sensitive part of his dick. “Oh my God.”

“Very good.” Enjolras watched, pleased to see that Grantaire was leaking precome now, visible despite the lube. “And again.” Hands pulled back, Grantaire groaned and bit down hard on his lip, taking deep breaths to control himself. Enjolras rubbed the base of his neck. “Very good, Grantaire. Much better. Tapping again now.” Hands lowered, and Grantaire was arching his back, clenching harder around the plug. Enjolras let him continue for around half a minute, the seconds stretching and seeming to pass slower than normal, Grantaire’s breathing beginning to hitch on the hint of whimpers that had Enjolras dizzy, hyper-focused on Grantaire’s every move and sound.

He pulled Grantaire’s hands away, and smiled when Grantaire turned his face against his thigh and made a muffled sound of desperation, but didn’t protest. “Perfect,” Enjolras murmured, flattening his palm against the back of Grantaire’s head and holding him there for a second. “Well done. You don’t have to tap this time.” 

“Thank you,” Grantaire said, rushed, and wrapped his hands around his cock with a desperate sound, covering himself with them as much as he could and starting to jerk himself hard and fast. Enjolras watched, hardly blinking, and took his feet off of Grantaire’s thighs to better see them. When Grantaire started to thrust into his hands, Enjolras yanked them away.

“You _fucker!_ ” Grantaire burst out, throwing his head back and fixing Enjolras for a second with a desperate look. “You bastard, you fucking tyrant, please, I need to come!”

“You want to come,” Enjolras corrected, hiding the rush Grantaire’s outburst had given him. “You don’t need to. Be still, Grantaire.”

“I can’t!” Grantaire was trying to push his legs together, rocking a little from side to side with no care for dignity. “Fuck, please, please, I can’t!”

“You can. Grantaire, if you can be still for twenty seconds, I’ll let you keep going.”

Grantaire shuddered and slowed to a stop. “Fuck. From now?”

“Now,” Enjolras confirmed, and began to count. “One. Two. Three…” He kept counting slowly as he pulled Grantaire upright by his hair, and ducked down to kiss the spot behind his ear that he loved. Grantaire was breathing loudly through his nose, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists against his collarbone. He didn’t open his eyes as Enjolras kissed his neck again, and reached down to pinch his nipples, one at a time, getting them hard once more.

“Eight. Nine. Ten.”

Rolling them between finger and thumb, one at a time, rubbing his fingertips over them, flicking them hard enough to make Grantaire’s chest jerk, but he was good – he didn’t move, though it was obviously costing him. Enjolras paused on nineteen and grinned wickedly. “An extra ten after this,” he said. “Just because I want to.”

Grantaire whined behind his teeth, but didn’t object, and Enjolras kept counting as he brushed his hand further down Grantaire’s chest. Skidded gently over Grantaire’s belly, tracing around his bellybutton before following the trail of hair downwards. Grantaire’s next exhale had a whimper in it, and Enjolras kissed his earlobe, whispering the numbers as he counted. “Twenty-three. Twenty-four.”

Grantaire’s cock was leaking and he made a beautiful strained sound as Enjolras smoothed two fingers down it to the head, stroked over the slit at the top (his stomach jumped, and another bead of sticky precome welled up), and slid down to the other side to tap in a cruel staccato against him.

“Christ,” Grantaire gasped. “Oh…oh!” He broke all at once, curving forward and thrusting up, tugging his hands against the rope that Enjolras still had a firm grip on.

“Oh dear.” Enjolras sat back again. “Only twenty-eight.”

“You cheated,” Grantaire said, voice cracking. “That wasn’t fair.”

“I only said you had to keep still,” Enjolras reminded him sternly. “That was all. And you couldn’t even manage that.” He didn’t miss the way Grantaire’s chin trembled for a split second, and a sharp jump of heat went through him at the sight. “I’m going to let you touch yourself,” he said, as calm as anything. “But you’re not allowed a tight hold, and you’re only allowed three strokes. Understand?”

“Yes,” Grantaire said through gritted teeth. 

“As I count then.” Enjolras lowered Grantaire’s hands and played with his hair at the same time. “Would you like more lube?”

Grantaire took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Much better.” Enjolras said, pleased. “Go on then. See what happens when you don’t mouth off?”

Grantaire grunted uncharitably, and Enjolras gave his hair a sharper tug, biting back a grin even though Grantaire couldn’t see him. He liked Grantaire like this, pushing back out of sheer frustration, not thinking the consequences through because he was just too wound up.

Grantaire dribbled lube directly onto his cock this time, and wrapped his hands around it. “One,” Enjolras counted softly, and felt Grantaire shudder as he slid one hand up and back down, agonisingly slow. “Very good. Two.” Again, tighter, and Grantaire twisted his head to push against Enjolras’ thigh. “Three.” 

“Please,” Grantaire breathed, obeying and then holding his hands still even as the rest of his body twitched and shifted. “Please, Enjolras.”

“Four,” Enjolras decided, and just as Grantaire’s hand reached the tip of his cock, he yanked them away. Grantaire muffled his groan against his thigh, a warm pant through Enjolras’ jeans. The way he was hiding his face like that was perfect, and Enjolras slid the hand holding the rope sideways so he could adjust himself. Much more of this, and he’d be the one wriggling to try and get some friction, but it was so delicious to watch Grantaire writhe, taking it even though he hated it.

“You’d better not come,” he said, making sure to sound conversational, maybe a little disdainful. “Shall I tell you what will happen if you do?”

Grantaire swore against his thigh, then nodded.

“I’ll give you the thrashing you deserve, for a start. And then we’ll sit back down, just like this, and we’ll start again.” He trailed the fingers in Grantaire’s hair around to his cheek, and smiled when Grantaire turned his head to kiss them. “Right from the beginning,” he said, pushing two fingers past Grantaire’s lips. “I’ll make you work yourself up again, no break, I don’t care if it hurts, and we’ll do this until you have better control over yourself.” He pulled his fingers back and wiped them on the back of Grantaire’s neck, which was getting sweaty now. “Let’s try again, shall we? This time, you’re only allowed to touch your balls.”

Grantaire gave a quiet sound of resentment, but obeyed when Enjolras lowered his hands. Very, very gently cupping his balls and tracing the skin over them, tipping his head back against Enjolras’ hip and starting to tremble. “Enjolras…”

“Keep going.”

“Nnnn…Christ, Enjolras, please…” His voice was getting thin, and Enjolras let out a slow, controlled breath as his hands slowed almost to stillness.

“Does that feel good, Grantaire?”

Grantaire’s chest hitched, and his voice was rough when he spoke. “Yes.”

“Are you close?”

“Yes, fuck, please please can I come, please –”

“Not yet. Touch your thighs now.” There was just enough slack between Grantaire’s bound wrists to allow him to slide his hands (visibly shaking now) about halfway down the insides of his thighs. Enjolras was aching now, hot all over and completely enthralled by every tiny reaction Grantaire was giving him. “Like that,” he murmured. “Very good. Tap yourself, Grantaire.”

Grantaire looked like he wanted to scream, but took himself in hand and began to do so. Not rhythmically as before – he was too shaky for that now. He twisted his face against Enjolras’ thigh again and mouthed at it, starting to gasp on his exhales. Enjolras could feel the heat of his mouth, see the hair at the nape of his neck starting to darken with sweat. 

“Please,” Grantaire gasped. “Christ, please, please, I can’t…god, fuck… _fuck_ , please, Enjolras…”

He sounded close to tears, and Enjolras couldn’t help shifting against the chair. Pretending it was a sudden decision, he pulled Grantaire’s hands away (he cried out) and pulled his head back viciously by his hair. “My turn,” he smirked. “I’m going to let go of you, Grantaire, and you’re going to turn around and kneel up for me. Colour?”

Grantaire took two trembling breaths before whispering, “Green.”

“Good.” Enjolras released him, and gave his leash more slack as Grantaire tipped forward onto his hands. Enjolras had tried this on himself to make sure Grantaire would be able to do it, and he sat in silence as Grantaire went still, clearly trying to figure out through the fog of arousal how best to kneel up and turn around with his feet tied and a spreader bar keeping his knees spread. Hesitantly, he put both hands to the side and pushed himself up and around with a grunt. The little space Enjolras had left between his feet came in handy now – it would have strained his ankles too much to keep the soles of his feet flush together, Enjolras had discovered when trying it himself.

“Forward,” Enjolras told him, and felt his cock twitch as Grantaire was forced to drag himself closer, knees rasping on the carpet, until he was right in front of Enjolras’ crotch. His cock was flushed red and standing stiffer than Enjolras had ever seen it, and he had to take a deep breath himself before unzipping his jeans. He pulled his cock out and got his hand back in Grantaire’s beautiful hair, winding the leash rope back in as he did with his other hand.

“You’re not allowed to touch yourself anywhere but your thighs and balls,” he said calmly. “Colour?”

Grantaire kept his head lowered, eyes screwed shut. “Green.”

“Get to work then.”

Grantaire moaned as he bent down, the angle surely uncomfortable with his knees spread and the soles of his feet pulled together like they were. Enjolras sighed as Grantaire got his mouth around him, biting his lip to retain a little composure. “Desperate, are you?” he sneered, and felt it when Grantaire made a little sobbing sound. “I’ll bet. The faster you get me off, Grantaire, the sooner we can go back to our game.”

Grantaire moaned again, and Enjolras wished with every fibre of his being that he could see what he was doing with his hands. But then – “Here.” He pulled on the leash, and Grantaire gasped around his cock as his hands were pulled away. “I don’t think I trust you not to lose control. Play with your nipples instead, Grantaire, that way I can keep an eye on you.”

God, it felt good. Grantaire’s mouth was hot, and Enjolras could feel his chin trembling just a tiny bit. He wanted to push Grantaire to tears, to make him so desperate he was literally crying for release, and he tightened his grip in Grantaire’s hair at the thought. “Fuck, Aire, that’s right…mmmm.” He let go of Grantaire’s hair and let his hand fall down to cup Grantaire’s face, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “Fucking yourself on my cock like that, I know you’re only thinking of yourself.” He made a sound of satisfaction at Grantaire’s choked denial. “Don’t lie, I know you just want this over with so you can come. You want to prove otherwise?” His cock twitched against Grantaire’s tongue as he made a desperate _mmmm_ of assent. “Slow down then.”

Grantaire pulled off, panting, and pressed his face for a second against Enjolras’ thigh again before leaning forward and kissing his shaft, working his way from tip to base. His fingers were pressed against his nipples, thighs and ass shifting as he clenched around the plug, and he was stunning, beautiful in his abasement. “Much better,” Enjolras murmured. “This isn’t about you, remember? You’re not tied up because I want to see you come – I could do that any time. You’re here because I want to see you suffer.”

Grantaire groaned, breathing heavily against Enjolras stomach before opening his mouth and licking his way back along Enjolras’ cock, taking him properly into his mouth again and going much slower this time. “Very good,” Enjolras breathed, hand on the side of Grantaire’s neck now, playing gently with his earlobe. “Keep going, just like that.” He unwound the rope leash from his hand and draped it over his knee, reaching forward and pushing one of Grantaire’s hands out of the way so he could pinch that nipple, Grantaire’s chest jumping in response. “Perfect. Put that tongue to good use, Grantaire. Maybe I should’ve shut you up like this earlier when you were being so rude. Or were you just asking for this? It’s all your mouth is good for, after all.”

Grantaire’s whole body strained towards him, the expression on his face one of desperate agony. His technique was getting sloppier, a sure sign that Enjolras’ words were sinking in, hitting hard. “You don’t get to be so ungrateful,” Enjolras breathed, giving his nipple another vicious pinch. “Everything I give you is a gift, whether it’s pain or pleasure or something in between. Would you rather I left you strung up in a corner and ignored you?”

Grantaire made a sobbing sound, cut off when he sucked Enjolras deeper, and that was so good, he felt so fucking good – “Fuck, Aire!” It was the only warning Grantaire got, but he swallowed beautifully as Enjolras came, curling forward and gasping with the strength of it. “Mmmmm.” He’d pinched Grantaire’s nipple throughout, he realised fuzzily, and grinned. That had to have hurt. “Stay there, don’t pull off.” The warmth of Grantaire’s mouth was too good to leave just yet, and Enjolras leaned back in the chair again, taking up the leash once more. “Tap yourself.”

Grantaire made a desperate sound around Enjolras’ softening cock, and didn’t move his hands. “Really?” Enjolras asked, lazily amused. “You don’t have a _choice_ in the matter, Grantaire. Tap yourself.” Another thin, shaky sound, but Grantaire obeyed this time, mouth falling open a little as he started.

“Ahhh…ahhhhh, ahhhhh…”

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Enjolras taunted, and pulled Grantaire off him by his hair, smirking when Grantaire opened bleary, unfocused eyes. “I thought you wanted to touch yourself, Grantaire.”

“I do,” Grantaire managed, hoarse. “Properly, please, please let me, it hurts, I need…”

“You want,” Enjolras corrected, every nerve in him singing. “Turn around, Grantaire. Back to your original position.”

Grantaire made a sound of pure despair that sent a pulse of heat through Enjolras’ body. It took him longer to turn around this time, his arms apparently weak. It gave Enjolras plenty of time to tuck himself back into his underwear and compose himself, enjoying the quiet sounds of discomfort Grantaire made as he pushed himself backwards to sit against the chair once more, settled neatly between Enjolras’ spread legs.

“Very good. Touch yourself, Grantaire, show me what you want.” The miserable hesitation in Grantaire’s movements were beautiful – he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to come, he didn’t want to get himself right up to the edge only to be dragged back from it. “Do it,” Enjolras said sharply. “Don’t make me wait.”

“You’re so fucking cruel,” Grantaire muttered, taking himself in hand and beginning to stroke, tipping his head back with a groan. 

Enjolras smiled and traced a line from his chin to the corner of his eye. “I am. And you’re not where I want you, if you’re still coherent enough to talk back. Looser grip, Grantaire, but faster.”

Grantaire bit down on his lip savagely as he obeyed, chest lurching. Enjolras was gentle with the hand not holding the leash, stroking Grantaire’s neck and shoulders, curving around the bottom of his chin, lingering on his pulse point to feel how fast Grantaire’s heart was beating. “And stop,” Enjolras said, pulling the leash, Grantaire’s hands tugged unwillingly away.

“God…” Grantaire’s breathing was erratic, he was so close Enjolras could practically feel it himself. “Oh…”

“How long do you think before I get hard again?” Enjolras asked him, toying with his earlobe again. “A while, but not too long. If I came again though, it’d definitely take longer after that. How many times do you think I could make you get me off before letting you see to yourself?”

“No, please…” Grantaire was so red, blotchy in a way that only stoked Enjolras’ anticipation. “Please, Enjolras, please –”

“You’d think twice before cursing me out then, wouldn’t you?” Enjolras said, silky and cruel. “You’d want to give me anything I wanted whether it was comfortable for you or not. I could ask you to rub yourself against the carpet and you would, wouldn’t you?” He lowered Grantaire’s hands. “Tap yourself, on my count.”

“Fuck, please, please, Enjolras…” Grantaire trembled, and his eyelashes were getting wet. Enjolras gave a low hum of satisfaction and smoothed his free hand around Grantaire’s throat, the gentlest threat that made Grantaire sob in response even as he got his shaking hands into position.

“One,” Enjolras counted, eyes down to make sure Grantaire was following his orders even though he wanted to watch Grantaire’s face. “Two. Harder, Grantaire. Three.” A long pause, then a quick rush of numbers. “Four, five, six…seven…eight.” Another long pause, giving Enjolras a perfect view of how much Grantaire’s hands were shaking. “Nine, ten, eleven. Stop.” Tears had spilled down Grantaire’s cheeks, he was tugging helplessly against his bonds, but he was still obeying. “Twelve,” Enjolras murmured. “Ten quick ones now. _One two three four five six seven eight nine ten._ That’s _very_ good.” Grantaire’s hands were shaking so much he was barely managing it. “Your balls, Grantaire, touch them.”

“Please, I can’t.” Grantaire tried to duck his head, but Enjolras pulled it back so he could keep watching. It had the added benefit of pulling Grantaire’s throat taught, making it harder for him to cry quietly. “Please, I’m begging you, please let me…please…”

“What did I say, Grantaire?”

Grantaire sobbed, but slid his hands lower and started to fondle his balls, cock dripping precome in rivulets down the shaft. “Please,” he gasped. “Oh my god, please, please, I’m…god… _Enjolras!_ Enjolras…fuck, fuck, yellow, I can’t –”

“That’s good, Grantaire, I’ve got you.” He pulled Grantaire’s hands back and rubbed his shoulder. “Take your time.”

Grantaire took about a minute, his crying easing slowly until he was just breathing shakily. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

“What’s your colour, Grantaire?” Enjolras checked.

“Fucking…fuck, green, but I can’t…please, _please_ not more, I’ll do anything, I’ll fuck the carpet if you want, just please let me come!”

“Shhhhh.” Enjolras actually was getting hard again, the power Grantaire was giving him better than he’d ever imagined when he’d proposed this. He stroked Grantaire’s neck. “For as long as I want,” he said softly, and drank in Grantaire’s whimper. “That’s how this works, Grantaire. You’re mine to play with as I like, and if I like, I’ll keep you like this for as long as I want. Hours, maybe. I might even take that plug out and fuck you if you’re lucky, but I’ll keep you here for as long as it suits me. I like seeing you hurt, and this is about what I like, not what you want.”

Grantaire started to cry again, and Enjolras slowly let his hands drop towards his crotch, limp in their ropes. “Touch your thighs for me, Grantaire. And keep clenching down on that plug, don’t stop. That’s right, that’s good.” He slid his free hand down and started rolling one of Grantaire’s nipples between fingers and thumb again. “Maybe I’ll clamp these too, if I think you deserve it. I don’t want to distract you, after all. Can you think of anything else except how desperate you are right now?”

Grantaire didn’t answer, giving helpless little noises on each exhale as tears continued to well up behind his eyelids. Enjolras leaned down and kissed his cheek, tasting them. They were there for him. Grantaire was doing this for him, hurting himself for Enjolras. “You’re so good,” he whispered in Grantaire’s ear, looking down his body and seeing Grantaire’s cock jump. “Be still, Grantaire. Don’t move.”

He reached down and wrapped his hand firmly round Grantaire’s cock. Grantaire’s stomach was tense with the effort of staying still, his whole body trembling. Enjolras let go, and Grantaire cried out, almost a wail of agony. “ _Please!_ Oh god, please, please Enjolras, please, I’m dying!”

“I know.” Enjolras kissed his cheek again, and wrapped his whole arm around Grantaire’s shoulders, smiling. “Hold yourself, Grantaire. Like I just did.”

Grantaire was shaking too much to even grip himself properly, clearly too afraid of making himself come without permission to dare trying to get a firmer hold. “Beautiful,” Enjolras murmured, and let go of the leash, keeping it draped over Grantaire’s shoulder so he hopefully wouldn’t notice. Hand now free, he reached down and grabbed the bottle of lube that was now by the outside of his ankle, knocked aside when Grantaire had turned around to suck him off. “Don’t move,” he warned Grantaire, pushing the cap open as he spoke, and then pouring a generous measure onto Grantaire’s cock, dribbling it over his fingers.

“ _Oh_ god,” Grantaire sounded panicked, his back arching against Enjolras’ restraining arm. “Fuck, Enjolras, I, it –”

“Make yourself come, Grantaire,” Enjolras told him, and held him tight as Grantaire tightened his grip and jerked himself off with abandon, only managing three strokes before he came with a shout of relief, come hitting the floor almost a foot away. A couple more tears trickling down the runs on his cheeks as his cock pulsed again, a third time, and a fourth, his whole body arching with each one.

“Ohhhhhh…ohhh god…”

“Shhhh, I’ve got you. That was gorgeous, Grantaire, you were amazing.” Enjolras pushed Grantaire forwards to make space so he could slide down behind him and hug him properly. “You were so good, I’m so proud of you.”

Grantaire had dissolved into tears again, crying quietly into Enjolras’ arm. “You’re good,” Enjolras told him, stroking his hair. “You’re good, I’ve got you. What’s your colour, love?”

“Green,” Grantaire rasped, and Enjolras relaxed a fraction.

“Okay, thank you. You were so good, Aire, well done.” A little more petting, and Enjolras let Grantaire slump back against him with all his weight, head tipped back against his shoulder, face turned into his neck. “Amazing,” he murmured again. “You’re amazing. I’m going to untie your wrists now, okay?”

Grantaire sniffed, which Enjolras took as acknowledgement. He took Grantaire’s wrists in his hands and unpicked the knots, loosening the binding so he could just slide them off and dump them to the side to untangle later. “There we go,” he murmured. “Spreader next, okay? Lift your knee a bit for me.” He helped Grantaire lift his left leg a bit so he could feel underneath and unbuckle the cuff, the Velcro making an almost obscenely loud noise as he pulled it open. It had left marks, but they would be gone in half an hour, Enjolras could tell. He released the other cuff and dropped the bar on top of the abandoned rope.

“I need to move a little bit to get your feet, Aire,” he said softly. “Okay? Just sit back against the chair like before.”

Grantaire took a huge, shuddery breath, and leaned forward so Enjolras could scooch out to his side. He leaned back against the chair, eyes closed and chest hitching on the occasional hiccup. “You did so well,” Enjolras told him, keeping his hands on him at all times. “How are you feeling, Aire?”

Grantaire sniffed again, and lifted a limp hand to scrub at his damp face. “Sticky. Really…really tired.”

Enjolras smiled and bent down to kiss his knee as he started to loosen the ropes around his ankles and feet. “I’m not surprised. I pushed you pretty hard there, you took it really well.”

“Yeah?”

“You were perfect.” Enjolras pulled the ropes away and was at Grantaire’s side again in an instant, sliding an arm around his shoulders. Grantaire tipped sideways into him with a grateful sound, and Enjolras held him tight, one of his legs curving up behind Grantaire’s back to keep him steady, the other going under Grantaire’s knees. “Absolutely perfect,” he murmured again into Grantaire’s hair. “Want to get that plug out now?”

“Yes please.”

“Lean into me then, love.” Enjolras reached down and felt for the flared base. “I’ve got it. Push a bit.” It shifted against his fingers, and as it moved out a little, Enjolras took hold of it and drew it out as smoothly as he could. It was still wet with lube, and came out easily. “Very good,” Enjolras said, putting it aside to deal with later. “You’re all done, Aire, I’ve got you.”

Grantaire curled up tighter against him, and Enjolras gave him a tight squeeze of a hug, then leaned back and reached out behind the armchair for the blanket he’d stashed there earlier. Grantaire made a quiet sound of alarm at the shift, and Enjolras kissed his temple. “Just getting a blanket, don’t worry.”

“Think of everything,” Grantaire mumbled, and Enjolras smiled, pulling the blanket around and over Grantaire’s body.

“I do my best. That better?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” Grantaire kissed his shoulder, and Enjolras hugged him again.

They stayed on the floor for what felt like a long time, Enjolras just holding Grantaire until he came back to himself a bit more. When he started to sit up, blinking tiredly, Enjolras cupped his cheek. “Hey. How’re you doing?”

“Spacey,” Grantaire breathed, closing his eyes at the contact. “Really spacey. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. We’ve got all the time in the world, you can take it easy.” Enjolras kissed his forehead. “I’ve got you, I’m going to take care of you now.”

“You’ve got me.” Grantaire licked his lips and appeared to force himself to open his eyes again. “Hi.”

Enjolras smiled, so in love he could have burst. “Hello. You want to stay here a bit longer?”

Grantaire processed that, then shook his head. “Bathroom? Shower?”

“Sounds good. Really slow, okay? Knees first.” He helped Grantaire twist up onto his knees, and kept an arm steady around him as he pushed himself to his feet. “All good?”

“All green.” Grantaire leaned into him heavily though, and after a second turned around for a hug. “Be more naked,” he muttered into Enjolras’ shoulder, and Enjolras smiled. 

“I can do that. Lean back a second.” When Grantaire did, blinking, Enjolras pulled his shirt gracelessly off over his head and tossed it aside. Grantaire started to smile, and put his hands on Enjolras’ shoulders as Enjolras undid his belt and fly and shoved his jeans down his hips. Thanking God he’d worn shoes he could slip off instead of having to unlace, he did that and wriggled out of everything, taking his socks off last and grinning when Grantaire laughed softly and hugged him again. “Better?”

“Way better. Softer.”

“Mmmm.” Enjolras stroked his hand down Grantaire’s back. “Still green?”

“Mmhm. Shower?”

“Shower,” Enjolras agreed, and led Grantaire there. Grantaire fell quiet, following Enjolras’ quiet instructions and allowing Enjolras to wash him without opening his eyes for longer than necessary. He had to be exhausted, or at least still deep in subspace. He trembled occasionally, and if they weren’t on Enjolras his hands would open and close on nothing.

Enjolras was glad to be able to get him out and dry him off, kissing his face, his shoulders, his hair. “Hey,” he whispered, finishing off Grantaire’s feet and starting to dry himself off with hurried movements. “You dropping a bit, love?”

“Maybe,” Grantaire mumbled. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” Enjolras paused to drop a kiss on the crown of Grantaire’s head. “It was a tough scene. You’re doing so well.” Dry as he cared to be, he wrapped the towel around his waist and cupped Grantaire’s jaw with one hand, touching his shoulder with the other. “Okay?”

“Mmmm.” Grantaire turned his head and kissed the inside of Enjolras’ wrist. “Okay.”

Still spacey as fuck, Enjolras translated mentally. “Feel up to eating something?”

Grantaire licked his lips and appeared to think it over. “Something small,” he said eventually, and Enjolras smiled. 

“How about toast? Come on, let’s get dressed.”

“Pyjamas,” Grantaire mumbled as Enjolras helped him up.

“Pyjamas,” Enjolras agreed. “Come on then.”

They changed, Enjolras helping Grantaire with all of it, and Grantaire stayed with him in the living room as he cleaned up, and the kitchen afterwards rather than going to the sofa as he usually would. He was behaving more like Enjolras did after he’d subbed, and Enjolras made sure to stay close, to be as gentle as he could. Toast for both of them, eaten standing up in the kitchen, and when Grantaire nominated bed over sofa, Enjolras guided him back to the bathroom so they could brush their teeth first.

As soon as they were in bed, stripped down to boxers and pyjama bottoms to avoid overheating, Grantaire clung to him, twisting their legs together and burying his face against Enjolras’ neck. “I’ve got you,” Enjolras reassured him, not letting any of his worry leak into his voice. “You okay, Grantaire?”

“Mmmm.” Grantaire kissed his neck and hugged him tighter. “I love you.”

Enjolras smiled against his forehead. “I love you too. You feeling a bit steadier now?”

“A bit.” Grantaire arched against him and shivered. “Is this okay?”

Whatever he was doing, Enjolras was fine with it. “Completely green,” he said. “What –”

“I want…”

“What?” Enjolras prompted, when Grantaire didn’t go on. “What do you want?”

“Just.” Grantaire breathed out against his neck and arched against him again, holding on tight, and Enjolras smoothed a hand down his side. “This,” Grantaire whispered. “I…please, I…” He was getting hard, making himself hard, and Enjolras slid his hand between them to touch him through his boxers. “Please,” Grantaire said again, thrusting.

“You want me to get you off?” Enjolras checked, stroking him through the material, and Grantaire nodded, his hand a fist where it was pressed to Enjolras’ back.

“Please, Enjolras.”

“It’s okay.” It would make a mess, but so what? Enjolras slipped his hand into Grantaire’s underwear and wrapped around his cock, rapidly hardening. “Whenever you like, Aire. You don’t have to ask me for permission.”

Grantaire let out a rattling breath, then tipped his head up to kiss Enjolras, kiss him and kiss him until Enjolras was, despite himself, somewhat distracted. He kept his rhythm up on Grantaire’s cock though, stroked him hard and fast until he was leaking, rubbing the heel of his palm over the sensitive head on every pull to make Grantaire shake and groan into his mouth, thrusting frantically until he couldn’t kiss anymore. He was tense all over, and when he pressed his face back to Enjolras’ neck, Enjolras kissed his ear instead, relishing the way it made Grantaire whimper and then go still the second before he came, thrusting into Enjolras’ fist until he was done.

“Gorgeous,” Enjolras whispered, hard himself now, though he didn’t plan to do anything about it. “You’re beautiful, Grantaire.”

He could see Grantaire blushing, and kissed his cheek. “Roll onto your back for a second, let me take those off.”

“Sorry.” Grantaire managed to meet his eyes, expression creased with contrition. 

“What for?” Enjolras kissed his forehead. “You were perfect, Aire.”

“I…” Grantaire lifted his hips up at Enjolras’ urging, letting him slide his boxers off. “Your hand…”

“I wanted to,” Enjolras told him. “Knees up, that’s good.” Boxers off, Enjolras wiped his hand on them and threw them out of the bed. “You want me to get another pair?”

Grantaire shook his head. “Stay here?”

“Of course.” Enjolras reached up to flick the light switch, then settled down again and pulled Grantaire close, half on top of him. “You’re lovely and warm.”

“Mmm, you too.” Reassured that he hadn’t done anything wrong, Grantaire sounded like he was going to drop off any second. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Enjolras found his hand and lifted it to his lips for a quick kiss. “I love you so much. Go to sleep, love. We’ll relax all day tomorrow.”

“Sounds nice,” Grantaire mumbled. His breathing evened out a minute later.

 

Grantaire was still a little spacey the next day. “Good thing we cleared our calendars,” he said, lying on the sofa with his feet in Enjolras’ lap after they’d eaten breakfast. “I’m fucking wiped.”

“I can tell.” Enjolras rubbed the top of one of Grantaire’s feet, glancing at him. “You’re way more coherent though.”

“Mmmm.” Grantaire sighed and stretched, pulling himself up into a sitting position and curling against Enjolras’ side, legs over his lap. “Still clingy though. Really clingy.”

“Well I don’t mind.” Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, smiling. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to, it feels like.” Grantaire rubbed his nose against Enjolras’ shoulder, breathing in deeply. “Just tell me if I get annoying?”

“You won’t.” Enjolras cradled the back of his head, playing gently with his curls. “Was it too much?”

“I don’t know.” Grantaire was frowning, Enjolras could hear it in his voice. “It was really intense. _Really_ intense.”

“Was there anything you’d change?” Enjolras asked curiously. They’d both known the scene was more about him, which was an aspect Grantaire had always sort of relished before.

“I don’t know.” Grantaire rested his cheek on Enjolras’ shoulder. “It was…maybe…”

“We can table this for later if you want,” Enjolras offered, when Grantaire stayed silent. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Grantaire lifted his head and kissed his cheek. “Yeah. I don’t know if I can form actual sentences yet. You really broke me,” he added, a trace of amusement slipping in that Enjolras was relieved to hear.

“What can I say?” He brushed their noses together, gave Grantaire the gentlest kiss. “I love it when you let me break you.”

“So long as you get to put me back together?”

“It’s the rules.” Enjolras smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “No aftercare, no play.”

“Harsh but fair,” Grantaire sighed, pretending exasperation, and grinned when Enjolras kissed him properly.

Enjolras waited for Grantaire to bring it up again later, but it didn’t happen. Marius came back from Cosette’s in the afternoon, by which time Grantaire was pretty much back to normal, but even in bed he didn’t mention it, and he was as clingy as he had been that morning.

Swallowing down worry, Enjolras chewed his lip in the dark and studied Grantaire’s closed eyes. “Aire?”

“Mm?”

“Are you okay?”

Grantaire opened his eyes, and smiled at whatever expression Enjolras was making. “Am I freaking you out?”

“You’re not freaking me out…” Enjolras made a face, and huffed when Grantaire kissed the corner of his mouth. “You are okay then?”

“I’m fine.” Grantaire wriggled impossibly closer. “Promise. I just forgot after Marius got back – you wanna come over tomorrow after the meeting? Or I’ll go over yours?”

“Come over mine,” Enjolras said. “It’s my turn to cook, you can help.”

Grantaire snorted. “I’ll help if you’re nice to me.”

“Aren’t I always nice to you?”

“Except for when you a tyrannical bastard, sure.” Grantaire smiled at him, so sly that Enjolras had to push his shoulder gently. Which of course just made him laugh. “Tomorrow,” he said, rolling back into place and closing his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He was at least reassured that Grantaire wasn’t upset with him or anything like that, but it still took Enjolras a frustratingly long time to fall asleep.

 

Monday seemed to drag on forever. Enjolras had to resist the urge to walk Grantaire to work, knowing that it would have come too close to hovering for Grantaire’s comfort. Combeferre was out when he got in, and Enjolras forced himself to do all the laundry he’d been putting off and sat down to do some proper work. He hated web design, but it paid better than journalism, and he was annoyingly good at it. It also helped that he didn’t have to think about anything too complicated, but it was complicated enough to keep him distracted. For the most part, at least.

Grantaire wouldn’t finish work until half five, and with the meeting at the Corinthe at seven, there was no point in them trying to meet before that. Enjolras was just glad it was one of the unofficial meetings, so nothing serious would be talked about. For the sake of people’s sanity they’d agreed not to discuss official ABC business on the social nights. 

Even if it had been one of the official meetings, Éponine was running things at the moment, and he’d done his statistics research for her anyway. Still, it meant he wouldn’t have to force himself to pay attention to her while thinking of Grantaire, which was a relief. She was good at telling when people were only pretending to listen, and he didn’t want her to think he wasn’t interested in what she had to say.

Enjolras met Combeferre on the way to the Corinthe and fell into relieved gossip, catching up on what they’d done over the weekend (omitting some details, of course) and how Combeferre’s classes had gone that day. Blessedly normal, all of it, though he was obviously showing some sort of tell, because on the walk from the métro to the Corinthe, Combeferre gave him an assessing look and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You seem nervous.”

Enjolras frowned. “I’m not.” Combeferre raised his eyebrows, and Enjolras thought about it. “I’m not nervous,” he said. “I just need to talk to Grantaire about something.”

“Something…sexy?” Combeferre smirked, and Enjolras snorted. Anyone who thought Combeferre was humourless clearly didn’t know the man.

“Sexy-related. We haven’t gone over Saturday night properly yet, that’s all.”

“Got to get that squared away,” Combeferre said dryly. “I know how you like to get things ticked off the to-do list.”

“Shut up.”

Combeferre laughed, and then they were there. Courfeyrac was already present – he always came straight from work, since he finished at six, and he perked up when they came upstairs, launching right into a story he’d been dying to tell them all day.

Grantaire and Marius arrived together, as always, just after seven. Both were dragged immediately into an argument Éponine and Bahorel were having about something inane like coffee flavours, and Enjolras didn’t have the chance to do more than smile a hello in his direction before Grantaire’s attention was drawn away.

Next to him, Courfeyrac snickered. “Awww, I’m sure he’ll come over when he’s done, don’t look so blue.”

Glaring at him would have only encouraged him, so Enjolras ignored him instead. It wasn’t a particularly effective strategy when Courfeyrac retaliated by jabbing him hard in a ticklish spot he always exploited. Enjolras twisted sideways with a barely-restrained yelp and smacked his hand away, which just made Courfeyrac laugh. And then of course Enjolras was smiling too, because he’d never been able to hear Courfeyrac laugh without joining in.

Still, it was a relief when people began to leave, and Grantaire caught his eye. Enjolras had expected him to come over earlier, but he’d stayed where he was, at a distance. Probably because he knew they were going back together. Unaccountably, it was Enjolras who was feeling clingy now, glad to be able to finally take Grantaire’s hand as they left the Corinthe.

There wasn’t space to talk then – Grantaire was chatting to Combeferre about Combeferre’s siblings (while studiously avoiding any mention of his own family, of course), and Enjolras was content to hold his hand and listen. They both let go instinctively when a large group of young men came around a corner, but they were ignored and got back to Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment without interruption.

Combeferre settled on the sofa with his laptop and textbooks, so there wasn’t the chance to speak while they cooked either, and Enjolras found himself having to concentrate on it more than usual, making sure he wasn’t spending too much time studying Grantaire’s expression and gestures, listening and looking for any hint that he was upset.

There wasn’t anything. They watched an episode of Grey’s Anatomy with Combeferre (who’d been introduced to it by another med student a few years ago and had developed what Enjolras considered to be an unhealthy addiction), cleaned up the kitchen, and went to bed. Finally.

“Well I don’t know about you,” Grantaire said, going around to what Enjolras now considered to be his side of the bed and stretching. “But I’m beat. Ready to sleep?” Enjolras opened his mouth to protest and realised the second he saw Grantaire’s smirk that he’d been baited. He crossed his arms and frowned. 

“You’re terrible.”

“I am,” Grantaire agreed, quite cheerful. “You looked like I’d just bought you tea instead of coffee. Have you been waiting for this all day?”

“Not _all_ day,” Enjolras muttered, annoyed he’d been so transparent. “I got some work done earlier.” The bed between them felt very wide, all of a sudden. “Do you not want to talk about it?”

Grantaire hesitated, and started to undress. “I’ve maybe been avoiding it, a tiny bit.”

“Why?” Enjolras pulled his own shirt off, not looking away from Grantaire for a second. He was turned away slightly, hands fidgeting the way they did when he was nervous.

“I don’t know.” Grantaire made a face and shoved his jeans off, leaving them in a pile on the floor the way Enjolras hated, but wasn’t about to bring up now. “I don’t know,” he said again, quieter. “I don’t know how I feel about the whole thing? Have you ever had that?”

“Not knowing how I felt about a scene?”

“Yeah.”

Enjolras thought about it, glad Grantaire didn’t push while they finished getting into pyjama bottoms and Grantaire got into bed. “I’ve felt that way about elements of scenes before,” Enjolras said eventually, switching on the bedside lamp and then going to turn off the main light before getting into bed himself. “Certain words, sometimes certain implements, certain fantasies that seemed like a good idea in the moment and then less good afterwards.”

“Not a whole scene though.” Grantaire frowned, sitting against the headboard and looking down at his hands, twisted together on top of the duvet. “It’s…I should know, y’know? Shouldn’t I? Like, if I liked something or not?”

“There’s no rule that says you have to.” Enjolras slid closer, pressing his knee to Grantaire’s leg. 

“I don’t like not knowing.” Grantaire seemed to notice his hands and pulled them apart, one of them jumping up to rub at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. It was…it was a lot.”

“We don’t have to do it again,” Enjolras said gently.

“That’s the thing though.” Grantaire glanced at him, still frowning. “I don’t know if I want that either. It’s…it’s like…I hated it, but it was…I don’t know. It’s still hitting me a bit, even now. Like, remembering how it felt, it’s still making me feel kinda floaty, and it’s been two days. And I know I literally just said I hated it, and I did, but I didn’t? So much? Not exactly, anyway. Sorry, I’m not making any sense.” He sighed and dragged the hand on the back of his neck round to his face, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise for not understanding every nuance of your reactions to something,” Enjolras told him, and couldn’t resist bumping their legs together. “It’s fine, Aire.”

“Yeah. Still.” Grantaire made a face. “It’s…I was thinking maybe it’s because you weren’t hurting me? Like, the nipple pinching was it, and it was barely – I mean, it wasn’t _nothing_ , but it’s not at like, the level of a cane or something.”

“I get it,” Enjolras assured him. “You’re right, there wasn’t really any pain.”

“Yeah. And I don’t…I don’t know, it’s different without it.” Grantaire frowned, shuffling sideways so their shoulders were pressed together. “Pain makes things sharper, I think? Or different, at least. It focuses me. Not that I wasn’t very, very focused on Saturday,” he added dryly. “But it’s different to focusing on like, a beating. Really different.”

“And you don’t know whether it’s a good or bad different,” Enjolras summarised, and Grantaire nodded.

“Yeah. Because…I hated it, like I said, it drove me completely up the wall.”

“You’ve never cursed me out before,” Enjolras smiled, and couldn’t quite reign in his amusement.

“Yeah, well, you’ve never tortured me like that before,” Grantaire snorted. “It actually felt like that, y’know? Like torture. Which sounds dramatic as fuck, but it was seriously awful. But you liked it, right?”

Enjolras didn’t want to influence him, and tried to consider his words before he replied. “I liked driving you to the point where you lost any ability to think your words through,” he said. “That was really good, for me. But if you didn’t like it –”

“I know.” Grantaire rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. “I get it, you won’t do anything I don’t want, you don’t have to keep reassuring me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being clear,” Enjolras said, kissing his cheek pointedly. Especially on an issue that was clearly troubling Grantaire, he added in his head.

“Sure.” Grantaire tipped his head back against the wall behind the headboard. “I’m not saying I’d never do it again. It’s like…I don’t know which one wins out; how much I hate being edged like that, or how good it felt to have you do it to me. Like, you, specifically. And the control aspect, I guess.”

“You were very good.” Enjolras moved to press his body against Grantaire’s from shoulder to ankle. “You were very obedient, even though I could see how much you wanted to come.”

“Mmmm. And I like…I love satisfying you, so that part was…yeah.” A quick glance showed Enjolras that Grantaire was turning pink. “Really good. But it’s different, without pain to focus on.”

“Would you prefer it if there was?” Enjolras asked. “If I was hurting you more?”

“I don’t know. I think that’s what made it so intense, that there wasn’t anything else to feel but how much I wanted to come, and how cruel you were being. That was…okay, so like, if you were hurting me somehow at the same time, it takes the edge off,” he said, with an air of having pinned something down that had eluded him. “My focus is split, and the pain gives it a different element that I really like feeling, and I focus on the specific places I’m hurting. If that isn’t there – when we, on Saturday? It was like it was my whole body, right down to my toes, everywhere. Everything was so oversensitive and it sucked at the same time as being kind of amazing, and everything that happened made the wanting worse.”

Enjolras felt a definite twinge of arousal at that, knowing he’d pushed Grantaire to such a state and he’d still followed Enjolras’ lead. “But in a way that you might want to do again?”

“Yeah.” Grantaire started twisting his hands together again. “Maybe. Not any time soon, definitely not regularly, but…well, it really got me out of my head.” He gave a short laugh. “I couldn’t think of anything but what was happening. A bomb could’ve gone off in the street and I wouldn’t have noticed. And when I remember and get a bit spacey, I kind of like that? But it’s also kinda…”

“Scary?”

“A bit.” Grantaire sounded embarrassed, so Enjolras slid one of his hands between Grantaire’s, and had to force himself not to squeeze down on them at Grantaire’s next question. “Is it like that when you sub?”

All of a sudden it was Enjolras’ turn to feel awkward. “Sometimes,” he said slowly. “I…yeah, I take a long time to come out of it, sometimes. And I need it to be that intense, to stop overthinking everything. Pain would just snap me out of it, it wouldn’t feel good – it would just hurt.”

“Yeah.”

Grantaire knew that already, Enjolras reminded himself. He’d seen, he knew. There was no need to be embarrassed. “It makes me feel very vulnerable, when I sub,” he said slowly. “That’s why I don’t do it for anyone I don’t know.”

“Vulnerable,” Grantaire repeated, nodding. “That’s it. Like, maybe more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt, in a scene.”

Enjolras nodded. “You cried. You don’t do that often.”

“Yeah. Like, proper crying as well, not a couple of artful tears.” Grantaire’s lips twisted. “Have I ever cried that hard before?”

“No.” Enjolras was sure of that.

Grantaire snorted. “You loved it, didn’t you.”

“You know I like it when I can make you cry.” Enjolras wound his fingers through Grantaire’s and smiled. 

“Sadist.”

“You love it.” Enjolras grinned and used his other hand to turn Grantaire’s face towards him for a long, slow kiss.

“I love it,” Grantaire agreed when they parted, maybe a little breathless. “I love it a lot.”

“I know.” Enjolras kissed the tip of his nose and smiled. “One last question?”

“Shoot.”

“You don’t normally want to have sex after a scene, but you did on Saturday.”

“Oh, yeah.” Grantaire drew back a little and laughed, ducking his head. “Not like, _sex_ sex. I just wanted to come again and have it be easy, I think, that’s all. No edging, just…quick, no drawing it out.”

“And for me to give it to you?”

“As a bonus, yeah.” 

Enjolras smiled and kissed him again, softer. “Well I’ll never object to that.”

Grantaire made a pleased sound, and squeezed Enjolras’ hand. “You wanna sleep?”

He could clearly tell Enjolras just wanted to lie down. “Yeah.”

“Spoon me, then.” Grantaire shuffled down the bed and rolled over, waiting. Enjolras laughed and switched off the lamp before curling around him. 

“Your wish is my command. Nominally, at least.”

Grantaire snorted, wriggling back against him to get comfortable. “Yeah, I know how it is. You just love making me suffer.”

“Well, you do suffer beautifully.” 

“Charmer.” Grantaire yawned. “Night.”

“Night.” Enjolras pressed his forehead to the top of Grantaire’s spine, thinking for a little while longer. He wanted to talk about it more, about Grantaire feeling so vulnerable, but they could come back to it when Grantaire had a bit more distance from the scene. Grantaire asking about how it felt when he subbed had thrown him, just for a moment, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe they could talk about that a bit more too, he decided, pretending he felt sure of himself. If anyone would be understanding about it, it was Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr (with other ways to support me) also as [myrmidryad!](myrmidryad.tumblr.com)


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